


Before It's Gone

by ishka



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Angst, Explicit Language, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Perfect Sense AU, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/pseuds/ishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes flit back and forth between the food and Haruka and he looks the very definition of despondent and confused. “I can’t… smell anything.”</p><p>The people of the world lose their senses and learn to look for what's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke and Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes before reading. This story is an AU based on the film "Perfect Sense." It will follow the general series of events from the movie, but the characters and their actions, motivations, professions, and overall existences are not based on the two people the film follows. Rin is a troubled soul. Sousuke is easily influenced. Haruka is fed up. Makoto is lonely. I'm not writing them as 17 year olds from Iwatobi in this story; they are 20-something adults with issues. If you've seen the film you know how angsty this will be. If you haven't, here's your warning. 
> 
> I've planned about six chapters total, and after the slow exposition of chapter one it will move rather quickly.

**1- Smoke and Mirrors**

“Put that shit out.”

Rin rolls his eyes and flicks his cigarette onto the ground in front of him, stomping on the half-smoked nicotine stick a few times before picking it back up and spiking it into the trashcan. “Okay, dad.”

“It fucking stinks.”

“We’re outside, I don’t know why you have to crawl up my ass about it.”

“Because this is a smoke-free property, you dick. Your _only_ job is to enforce the law, not break it.”

Rin glares at his partner, and he glares right back unfazed.

“I’m on break,” Rin says dismissively, breaking his glare to watch the traffic beyond the fence go by instead.

The other crosses his arms and leans back against the wall of the building they’re standing next to. “You’re insufferable.”

“Then fuck off somewhere else, Sousuke,” Rin spits. “I put the damn thing out, didn’t I?”

Sousuke shakes his head and looks out at the traffic as well.

Rin’s not sure if the traffic in Tokyo has always been this bad or if it has steadily increased in volume in the four years he’s lived there and he’s only just noticing. Either way, no matter how shitty his life is, he isn’t a goddamn traffic cop out in the middle of all of that ruckus, and he has that to be thankful for anyway.

He’s a glorified security guard, thank you very much.

“How’s your bratty child?” Rin asks with no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

Sousuke side-eyes him. “Is being this big of an asshole genetic or was it learned?”

“Learned. My sister’s a saint.”

If Sousuke’s pissed over Rin’s cheeky response, he hides it well. “He’s fine,” he answers nonchalantly, turning his head fully to Rin. “Still hates my fucking guts. So nothing’s changed.”

Rin laughs. “Would you do the guy a favor and just break up with him already? He’s too stubborn and immature to do it himself, obviously.”

Sousuke’s hard expression wavers and he looks back to the traffic. 

“You _still_ want to make it work?” Rin asks incredulously. “You’ve been miserable for over a year.”

“I know.”

“Jesus Christ, Sousuke.”

“I know.”

Silence settles between them and car horns and motors in the distance dominate the dialogue again.

Rin can barely put up with a shitty relationship for three days, much less an entire year of dysfunction. Sousuke’s situation simply flabbergasts him. Not to mention his live-in boyfriend is an immature prick to boot. Rin doesn’t get it at all. He’d willfully sleep on the streets before sleeping in an environment like that, and maybe has once or twice.

“You still dropping your dick in anything that’s dumb enough to take it?” Sousuke snips after a few moments.

Rin snorts. “Is that you trying to insult me?”

“Did it work?”

“Maybe.”

They share a laugh and Rin is vaguely aware for what might be the first time, somehow, that their friendship is slightly off-kilter in terms of humor.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “Better than your horror story if you ask me.”

Sousuke looks at him like he’s three years old. “I _didn’t_ ask you.”

“Fair enough. Coming out tonight?”

The other shrugs, fabric of his uniform scratching against the textured plaster of the building. “Don’t I always?”

Rin sighs. “Y’know, Sousuke, maybe Haru wouldn’t want to set fire to the very ground you walked upon if you didn’t get shit faced with me every night. Just a hunch.”

His placid face doesn’t waver this time. “Maybe.”

Rin wishes it didn’t leave such a bad taste in his mouth to hear that.

-

At 8 PM, after his twentieth loop around the premises in ten hours, Rin finally gets to pack his shit up and leave. He shoots a quick text to Sousuke telling him to wait up in the parking garage as he walks swiftly down the hall to the break area. It’s sort of an eerie place, he thinks, picking up his gait in the dim light of the hallway. It’s a medical research building, with all the horror story worthy rooms to go with it. There’s a level entirely for animal testing, though it isn’t his to stalk. That’s Sousuke’s. Rin prowls the labs and gigantic freezers full of aliens and bubonic plague, probably.

So far, no one’s told him why he’s actually _here_. Why the police are standing in as security guards for what he assumes is a privately owned institution. Rin has enough to deal with though, so he doesn’t ask. That’s likely exactly why he was put on this detail two months prior, now that he thinks about. He is least likely on the force to give a fuck, Sousuke told him once. He volunteered Sousuke in retaliation for that statement for the other babysitting position, much to the other’s chagrin. But like hell he was going to be forced to work in an enclosed area indefinitely with some idiot from the station who he couldn’t stand. Which was everyone other than Sousuke, as it turns out. The normal security guards that took the less restricted floors were awful enough.

He’s nearly to his destination when a room he swears he closed down thirty minutes ago catches his attention with its decidedly not turned off lights. “Goddammit,” he mutters, stopping his near sprint and changing direction to investigate. He looks in to see the hunched back of one of the hundreds of white coats that blind him day in and day out at a high-sitting metal lab table.

“Hey, the building’s closed, doc. Why’re you still here?” Rin asks from the doorway.

The scientist jumps in his seat and whirls around to face him.

“I apologize. I needed to finish up these reports. I’ll be out shortly, I’ll lock up.”

Rin stands up straight. “Nu uh, those aren’t my orders. These floors close at 7:30, period. So you need to split.”

The scientist stands up from the stool and pushes his red glasses up his nose, reaching a hand back to block whatever he’s looking at from Rin’s view. “Excuse my bluntness, officer, but I work here. Not you.”

Rin is unimpressed. “Government orders. Or do you now speak for them too? What’s your name? I’m sure the suits signing your checks would love to know.”

The white coat doesn’t even flinch. “Rei Ryugazaki. Tell them, I don’t mind. I have work to do.”

“Then do it at home. This is a federal mandate. You need to get the fuck out of here before I remove you myself.”

Rei suddenly looks weary and exhausted. “...It’s not like I’ll find my solution with another hour of work anyway. Have you stopped to smell the flowers recently, officer?”

“What the fuck sort of question is that?” Rin scoffs.

“You should,” is all he says, turning to gather up the papers strewn about the table. 

“Whatever. Come on, now by protocol I have to walk you out and I got places to be.” This is just wonderful, he thinks. Such a fantastic use of his time.

 _some coat giving me shit, be there in ten_ , he texts Sousuke.

Rei gathers a stack of folders into his arms and looks indignantly to Rin, as if Rin’s the one holding him up. He doesn’t dignify him with a response, and instead flips the lights off and stands outside until Rei joins him. He runs his card over the reader outside the door and punches ‘lock’, waits for it to flash red, and starts to walk towards his original destination of the lockers. “Grabbing my stuff,” he mutters to the scientist. 

Duffle bag in hand and belt and gun locked away, they make their way to the parking garage. Finally. Rin glances at the folders, ever so slightly curious what was so important that this idiot had to risk his job. 

“‘S.O.S’?” he asks, reading the label on the top.

“I’m sure it’s none of your business.”

Rin snorts. “Worth getting fired over, apparently.”

Rei only nods. He looks downright _grim_ , Rin can’t help but notice. His mouth is set into a hard, straight line and his eyebrows seem to refuse to unfurl. This guy needs to loosen up, and Rin is nothing if not tactless.

“You look wound up, doc. Want to come out drinking with me and a friend?”

Rei laughs, short and clipped. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

The two leave the main building and Rin cards the door locked behind him, every movement echoing along the concrete of the parking garage. Sousuke can probably hear him now. 

“Please don’t do this again,” Rin says in his Officer Matsuoka tone. “I’m not gonna report this but if I catch you again, I will.”

Rei sighs and shifts the stack in his arms. He looks like he wants to say something, and then noticeably settles for less. “There will be a short press release tomorrow afternoon from the office of Prime Minister tucked into the usual news broadcast.”

“Uh, okay?”

“You might find it relevant. Good night, Officer...” he pauses and looks at Rin’s nameplate. “Matsuoka. Try and make good choices tonight.”

Rin actually laughs at that. This guy isn’t as starchy as the other coats. He waits until he hears Rei get into his car and start it, then hustles over to where Sousuke is inevitably waiting to chew him out.

“Honestly, Rin, who gives a shit if one nerd wants to work late?” Sousuke greets with a frown.

“Says Mr. Morals who made me put out my cigarette. There are cameras all over that place, it’s my ass if I walk away. Also, he’s probably way smarter and richer than you, dumbass, so watch who you call a nerd. Stop whining, let’s go,” he commands while hooking his index finger and thumb into his shirt pocket for his smokes. 

Sousuke bats his hand down. “If you smoke in my car again I’m going to kick your ass into next week. Haruka nearly slit my throat when he smelled it on the seats last time.”

“Ah, so loving.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

-

Their usual watering hole is loud enough to make them feel like well-adjusted, social members of society but not loud enough to cause long-term hearing loss. The alcohol is watery and shit, Rin thinks, but Sousuke tells him that sounds like the sign of a drunk to him, and Rin doesn’t need that sort of judgement so he doesn’t bring it up. Rin waits outside the car for Sousuke to change out of his uniform, something he already did on the drive over, sucking down a quick smoke after being denied a full one all day long. He snuffs it out and leaves it ground into the pavement. Sousuke isn’t there to bitch.

Once inside they find a high-top table, yet another preference of his picky friend who hates craning his head to the side to look at Rin if they sit at the bar. 

“What was that coat up to anyway?” Sousuke asks over their first round. Beer for his friend, Jameson dropped into Guinness for Rin.

“Beats me. Had a bunch of folders he was going through. Top one said ‘S.O.S’.”

Sousuke looks up. “I’ve seen that around lately.”

“Know what it means?”

“Not a clue.”

Rin takes a long drink from his glass. “You know I haven’t thought much about why we’re there, but I can’t say I’m not a little curious now.”

“Me too. My floors are… interesting. They’re dead silent, no one talks about anything in the open. All I hear are pigs and monkeys. And it all smells like a fucking zoo. The zoologist in charge is a freak.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be clean? Research and all.”

“I honestly might be imagining it. It’s a weird place.” Rin realizes Sousuke isn’t joking with a quick glance over his serious features. 

“The coat, I mean, Rei was his name I guess, told me there’s going to be a press release tomorrow about something.”

“And?”

“Made it seem like it might be relevant to our assignment without saying so directly.”

“Interesting.”

He downs the rest of his drink. “Also told me to stop and smell the flowers.”

Sousuke grimaces, either from watching Rin drink that much in one gulp or from what he said. “These fucking scientists are all a bunch of deranged hacks,” he mutters. 

“Probably. We’re crooked cops, so.” Rin shrugs as if it can’t be helped. “Stereotypes.”

The other chuckles and finishes his beer. “Anyway. You on the hunt tonight? Do I need to stop drinking early so I can get my ass home before Haruka chews it out?”

“Gross. And maybe, if anything interesting saunters by.”

He stands and grabs them another round. Rin always pays, for a number of reasons. Primarily to keep Sousuke interested in going with him, and secondly to keep his friend out of the early grave his boyfriend would kick him into if he found out how much they spend every week. Sousuke doesn’t protest, unsurprisingly.

When he returns, Sousuke looks distraught, but quickly drops it off his face once he notices Rin’s there. 

“What’s your problem?” Rin asks.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Look, I should probably go.”

“We just got here.”

“Well, you stay, find your piece of ass for the night. Text me if you need me to bail you out of a serial killer’s apartment, as always.”

He reads Sousuke’s unspoken words right away. “Wait, you suddenly have a conscience?” Rin says with a sarcastic laugh. “Now you want to go home to your bitchy boyfriend and try and work it out? It’s a little late to fix that mess, don’t you think? Just fucking admit it, would you?”

Sousuke flinches, _hard_ , and Rin backpedals. “Ah, look, Sou, that was a little harsh. My bad.”

“You’re right, honestly,” Sousuke says quietly. “It’s totally fucked.”

“It isn’t,” Rin tries to reason. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is. I’m a piece of shit, Rin, no one is going to deny that.”

“Yeah, you are. But you love him.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Sousuke’s jaw clenches and he looks at the ground. “I do.”

Rin softens further. “Then go fix it, okay? You don’t have to be a bottom feeder like me. You’re better than this.”

He knows full well how selfish he is to monopolize Sousuke like he does. He’s pretty sure, though would never say out loud, that he is the primary reason that Sousuke and Haru’s relationship is still in the shitter. Rin doesn’t know what initially pulled at the loose thread that started their unravelling, Sousuke’s never been willing to talk much about it, but he isn’t dumb enough to try and convince anyone that he isn’t the main destructive force behind it now. His partner may be an adult and fully capable of making his own decisions, but Rin’s the walking definition of a bad influence and he knows it. 

Sousuke sets his face to neutral again and nods. “Thanks for the beer.” Then he stands and leaves without saying anything else. Now Rin will really need to find a companion, because his ride just left. 

A quick glance around the bar tells him he’s out of luck. No one there even registers a little bit fuckable. He finishes both drinks, knocks back two more shots at the bar, and leaves. He’s feeling a bit sorry for himself, which is the absolute worst sort of buzz if you ask him. Without Sousuke, he doesn’t have anyone. If his friend does go home tonight and finally takes the first steps towards reconciliation, Rin is back to his solo gig. The thought makes him shudder.

Drunk on the streets of Tokyo just looks desperate and sad, and he’s not far gone enough to forget that. He walks with intent to the nearest generic ramen shop, already giving up on his usual habits for the night so long as this melancholy is there to pin him down. At the bar he simply makes a vague gesture to the cook for whatever, and is served something with pork.

He’s halfway through it before noticing there’s been another person there the entire time, because the guy finally says something.

“Could you please pass me the napkins?” he asks. It’s polite, but there’s an underlying tone of weariness. 

Rin nods and simply slides the dispenser across the space that separates them without looking up. 

“Thank you.” The cook reappears, shuffling things around, probably trying to close up for the night. “This was very good, Yori. Thank you again.” 

God he’s annoying, Rin thinks, curling farther over his bowl. Who the fuck is this polite?

“Anytime, Makoto,” the cook answers, turning back to his task.

“Come here often?” Rin asks sarcastically.

“Ah, yes. A few times a week,” Makoto answers.

“Too much sodium’ll kill ya,” he mutters.

“So will too much alcohol.” He waits a moment and Rin feels his scrutiny. “And cigarettes.”

Rin blinks a few times and finally looks up at this annoying asshole. “At least I’m not replacing my meals with it.”

“No, that’s what the sodium is for,” Makoto says with a gentle smile, gesturing to Rin’s bowl. “The alcohol is just for speeding up the dying process.”

Rin grins. “Well aren’t you a smarmy fuck.”

He’ll have to write that line down, because it’s his shoe-in to a rather spacious and nicely furnished apartment belonging to the aforementioned fuck. 

Makoto slams him up against some wall, who knows which one, and picks away at his clothing while kissing him faster than Rin can keep up with.

“I’m a police officer,” Rin says breathlessly, “so don’t fuckin’ murder me.” It’s his go-to for a good laugh to give people the impression he’s quirky and confident, and a quick way to make sure they aren’t actually going to murder him.

“And I’m a firefighter,” Makoto replies, pulling Rin’s shirt off quickly, and then his own.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Rin says while he yanks down Makoto’s pants.

“Me either,” the other replies without missing a beat. 

He thinks, as he’s shoved in the direction of a bedroom, that he should try and pick up people at ramen shops more often.

-

Haruka winces when he hears the door open, and braces for another night of taking care of a wasted Sousuke. He wonders if it’ll be drugs, alcohol, or both this time? It’s always a gamble. But the usual fumble and stumble across the threshold never reaches his ears. 

“Haruka, you up?” he hears from the entryway. Not drunk. Sober. He’s pissed that he’s surprised. 

“In here,” he answers without much enthusiasm. He sets his sketchbook down on the coffee table in front of the couch he’s lounging on and waits for Sousuke to find him. 

“Hey,” Sousuke greets with a shy smile once their eyes connect. “What’re you up to?”

Haruka nudges the sketchbook with his foot. “The usual.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Actually, this is rather early.”

He’s very apprehensive, Haruka notices. What did he do now?

“Heh, I guess so.” Sousuke wavers, clearly uncertain if he should sit next to him or retreat to the armchair. Haruka does not give him the satisfaction of a preference. “Anyway, how was your day?” He decides to just stand there which is even more irritating. Haruka resumes his sketching to ease his edge.

“It was fine,” he answers after a moment. 

A solid few minutes go by and Sousuke finally chooses the armchair. “Can I talk to you?”

“I’m listening.”

Sousuke has the nerve to sigh. “ _Actually_ talk to you?”

Haruka stills his pencil halfway through what he thought was turning out to be a nice, solid curve until it was interrupted. “I’m sorry, am I now the unavailable one?” he asks Sousuke.

Sousuke licks his lips and averts his gaze and looks like Haruka’s already yelled at him, which he hasn’t. Yet. 

“What did you do now?” Haruka finally justs asks to get this over with. “If you need my focus that badly can we cut to the part where you admit that you cheated?”

Sousuke looks up, wide-eyed. “Haruka, I would _never_. I _didn’t_.”

He feels sort of bad for saying that when he’s sees how quickly his boyfriend’s face contorts into horror. He knows Sousuke wouldn’t. He’s just hitting below the belt because he’s fed up and sick of everything else he does do.

“I uh,” Sousuke starts, then stops and clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Haruka.”

“Would you just tell me?” he asks impatiently.

“That is what I want to tell you.”

“Well what did you do?”

“I mean, I’m sorry, for everything, is what I’m saying. I’m sorry I’m a fuck up.” He wrings his hands one over the other in his lap. “I want to try and fix this before you leave me.” 

Haruka rolls his pencil between his fingers before saying anything. “I’m already planning to move out at the end of next month.”

Sousuke doesn’t react at first, and simply stares at him.

“I was going to tell you this weekend.”

“...Haruka.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Okay,” Sousuke says weakly. “All right.”

Haruka nearly breathes a sigh of relief that Sousuke doesn’t attempt to fight him on this. He has to know it’s been a long time coming. 

“I have been worse than scum to you,” Sousuke continues.

“I already told you I’m leaving,” Haruka cuts him off. “You can stop now.”

“I know. But I want to finish anyway. You still deserve an apology.”

He snaps his mouth shut and eyes Sousuke suspiciously, but doesn’t speak over him again.

“I was weak, and I made a lot of bad decisions, and I took you being here for granted. The fucking pills, the alcohol, it was all a mistake. I’m shutting it down, and I’m not going to do it anymore.”

“You’re an addict, Sousuke. It doesn’t work that way.” There’s no venom in it, just a sterile truth. “You can’t just stop because you feel guilty. You need actual help.”

He looks so wounded Haruka can hardly stand it. But he’s heard all of this before, too. 

“I’m gonna get it,” Sousuke says with a swallow. “I promise.”

“I’m not part of this anymore,” Haruka tells him. “You don’t have to promise me anything.”

“I know. But I want you to know it anyway. Because I love you, still. And I probably will for a while. So I value what you think of me.”

Haruka closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. This is hardly fair of Sousuke to do. How many times is his chest going to constrict at these empty, useless words of his? He knows better. He’s known better for months. And yet he still hears “I love you” and believes it.

He opens his eyes again at the foreign yet unmistakable sound of _sobbing_. 

“I’m sorry,” Sousuke chokes. “I’m so sorry, Haruka, I’ve hurt you and I’m so sorry.” And then he’s throwing himself over his knees and weeping, and Haruka is alarmed to say the least. His shoulders shake and his voice is unintelligible, an endless babble of apologies. 

“S-Sousuke,” he tries, and doesn’t get a response. “Sousuke!” What the hell is this? He’s never done anything like this in three years. He’s on his feet and at Sousuke’s side, shaking him by the shoulder. The other doesn’t even acknowledge it. His sobs amplify to wails. Haruka forces his head up and Sousuke only brings his hands up with it to continue.

“What are you on?” Haruka accuses. “What did you take so I can look this up?!” But he doesn’t answer, and when Haruka’s arms get tired of holding him up and lets him go, he folds back over his knees and continues to nearly scream . Sousuke’s shaking, and Haruka hopes it isn’t some sort of seizure. He chews his lip and considers calling an ambulance. Whatever drug he’s found this time seems downright dangerous. 

He darts into the kitchen where he left his phone and dials the emergency services. He doesn’t want Sousuke to _die_. 

An operator answers.

“H-hello, my friend is having some sort of reaction to a drug, I can’t figure out what’s wrong with him, he’s very upset and shaking and it seems to be some sort of psychedelic, maybe?” He’s aware he’s rambling but his nerves are entirely shot, and Sousuke wailing the room over is not helping.

“To clarify, your friend is in a sudden state of emotional distress?” the operator asks.

“Yes. I think so.”

“I understand sir. Per regulation from the health department on this matter, we recommend you stay with the afflicted until their altered state passes. Should his symptoms persist after twelve hours, the recommendation then is to redial emergency services for further instruction.”

“Excuse me? He could be overdosed on something! What are you talking about? He needs a _hospital_.”

“Sir for this particular malady these are the recommendations per the health department. Once again shoul-”

Haruka hangs up and walks back to the couch, clutching his phone in his hand. Should he call someone else? What would they be able to do that he can’t? Nothing, he knows.

So he sits and watches Sousuke whimper late into the night; not unlike so many nights that have already happened before.

-

At some point his crying must have died down, because Haruka drifts to sleep. He wakes up in the early dawn, and sees Sousuke sitting perfectly still in the chair, elbows on his knees and lower half of his face in his hands. Haruka sits up quickly as the night comes back to him, then finds himself at Sousuke’s side again.

“Are you _okay_?” he drills.

Sousuke’s droopier than normal eyes look at him, all the misery in the world contained within. “What _happened_ to me?” he asks, afraid and quiet. 

“I don’t know. What did you take? Do you remember?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

“Sousuke.”

“I’m not lying, Haruka.”

He really wants to believe it.

“Something’s off,” Sousuke mutters. “Something’s wrong with me.”

He’s white as a sheet, and his eyes are dark and unfocused from a lack of sleep. He looks positively terrified, and Haruka can’t ignore this. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. I think that would be good. Uh, Haruka?”

“Mm?”

“Mackerel. If we have it. I really need it. I don’t know why.”

That’s a first.

Haruka nods and gets to work. In the kitchen, he takes out rice he’s already pre-made the day prior, and turns on his electric griddle. The fish is sizzling over the surface when Sousuke finally enters the kitchen and stares at it without moving at all.

“What?” Haruka inquires.

His eyes flit back and forth between the food and Haruka and he just looks the very definition of despondent and confused.

“I can’t… smell anything.”

-

_“It’s called Severe Olfactory Syndrome, or S.O.S. At first we believed the disease only affected a handful of individuals across the globe, but as of yesterday morning there has been a dramatic increase in reported cases. In an effort to ease the mounting worry of the public, we will explain what we know of the disease and its effects._

_Individuals afflicted with this disease can expect the following sequence of symptoms. First an individual will experience an extreme shift in mood, often triggered by a conversation or a sight. The afflicted individual will experience anywhere from thirty minutes to ten hours of intense negative emotion, such as crying, shouting, and extreme depression and in most cases all three or even more manifestations of negative emotion. By all reports it is uninterruptible and so far professional intervention has not yielded results. After this period of time has passed, the afflicted individual will recover from this emotional state and find themselves, in 100% of all cases documented thus far, with complete olfactory impairment, also known as a complete loss of their sense of smell._

_The disease is thusfar not know to result in any other symptoms at this time. It is not contagious. Its origin remains unknown. We will be following its progress diligently, and we have many teams of scientists already working on finding a cure. There is no cause for alarm. We ask any and all afflicted to contact the number that will be broadcast at the end of this message so that we may keep an accurate track on the spread, but no medical intervention is required at this time should you find yourself with S.O.S._

_Thank you for your time.”_

Rin doesn’t hear a single word of the broadcast over the muffled wails from his fetal position on the floor of his apartment.


	2. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene of this chapter could be potentially upsetting and dips briefly into the horror genre. I am a terrible judge of what might make people upset, honestly. If you think it might be too much but you want to know what happens, let me know and I can give a summary.

**2- Faith**

Haruka anxiously drums his fingers along his flour-dusted counter top. He can’t seem to string more than two coherent thoughts together before slipping into a daze and spacing out. 

“Haru,” a gentle voice coaxes behind him. “Don’t forget we still need a roux after you’re done mixing that.”

He takes in a deep breath and brings his hands back down to his sides, clenched into loose fists and turns to face his co-worker. “Sorry, Nagisa.”

Nagisa shakes his head sympathetically, his mop of hair that should really be under a hat bouncing around his ears. “I think we’re all still a little freaked out over this. But cheer up, Haru. They’re working on it.”

He nods and swallows hard, then turns back to his counter to work. The dinner rush will be soon, and though it isn’t as bustling as it was before a week ago, food is difficult to prepare right now for all the extra spice it takes to convey any sort of taste when no one can smell anything. He stares down at his half-mixed dough that usually reminds Haruka of creation itself, yet doesn’t anymore.

Nagisa slides in next to him and grabs the bowl Haruka’s been working at. “Let me do it, okay? Why don’t you take a minute to yourself? Could you chop some vegetables?”

It’s mindless enough. Easier than mixing dough for now. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “I just need a minute,” he half-parrots back.

He dices heaps of hot peppers and onions, which they ordered large crates of the day prior since they’re the only vegetables that really seem to kick anything up a notch at the moment. The onions sting his eyes which he thinks is slightly unfair considering he doesn’t even get the consolation of smelling them freshly cut. Besides, he’s shed more than enough tears this week.

S.O.S. happened to everyone and yet he finds himself still burning red with embarrassment when he thinks back on his own episode. Losing a sense was secondary to the whirlwind that came before it for Haruka. He can’t stop thinking about it, not even four days later. 

Sousuke did the laundry later that weekend after their deathly silent breakfast of mackerel on rice, and Haruka stole away a moment to lie across the newly laundered sheets. That’s what did it, the memories contained within the smell of the packaged floral spring brook detergent (which they’d picked out together as a joke initially, but never stopped buying) that they’d always used to wash their things with coming to the front of his mind and breaking him down. Memories with laughter at sundown and whispered promises at dawn. A time when Sousuke’s deviousness didn’t automatically translate into vice. When it was exciting, when it lit up Haruka’s nerves with passion and elation and not worry and anger. 

He longed for it, craved it so much, wanted things back to how they were more than anything in the world. He cried for hours in mourning, well into the night, twisted so thoroughly into the sheets his fingertips turned purple where the circulation in his wrists had been restricted.

And Sousuke, who knew he was not wanted, curled around him and held him close the entire time anyway. He stroked his hair and whispered to him, never stopping for a second, though Haruka doesn’t remember what he said. When it was over, Haruka was in shock, and Sousuke carried him to the bath and stoked him back to reality. 

Haruka hates him for it. 

“Haru, you’re spacing out again,” Nagisa chides.

He nearly fails to stop himself from rubbing his eyes with his capsaicin-stained hands. 

“What’s going on, Haru? This isn’t like you!” Nagisa asks with alarm, causing a few other chefs to glance his way. 

Haruka shakes his head. “I’m just tired.”

“Well you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t start paying attention. This is a kitchen! It’s dangerous!” Nagisa clamps his hands down over his shoulders and looks at him sternly.

Haruka cracks into a small smile. “You’re right. I’m on my way to nine fingers.”

Nagisa nods and beams back, unable to ever hold a face so serious for too long. “You can do it, Haru! Or rather, we can’t do it without you. Let’s give ‘em something spicy!” he says loudly with a mischievous glint in eye. There’s a whoop from somewhere else in the kitchen.

It’s enough. For now. He chops and kneads and pushes everything else aside.

-

“It’s not like I could smell your ass from a flower shop to begin with,” Rin mutters. 

Sousuke looks up from tying the laces on his shoe. “I can’t even begin to try and understand what the fuck that means.”

“It means I’ve been smoking since I was an angry fourteen year old, so losing what I had left of the sense isn’t too big a loss.”

“How much do you actually smoke? As a former smoker, I’m worried about you.”

“As a self-loathing curmudgeon, I don’t really give a shit if you are.”

Sousuke stands up after finishing with his laces. “I’m curious, since you have no emotion other than anger. What triggered your S.O.S.? A baby look at you the wrong way? Did a dog recoil from your hand when you tried to pet it?”

“Oh, now you’re a fucking comedian. No dick, I thought about my dead dad when I walked by his photo. Isn’t that cute? What about you? Did Haru get off before you and leave you blue-balled?”

Sousuke slams his locker shut and shoulders his bag. “He told me he’s moving out.”

Oh. Well shit. Time for damage control, or an attempt of it anyway. “Oh yeah? So it’s over?”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“Sounds over to me.”

Sousuke’s face falls dark, actually, and Rin takes an involuntary step back. “No offense Rin, but you are literally the last person on earth I will be hearing conjecture from on my relationship.”

So much for damage control. “Hey now, I had an exemplary lay after you ditched me last Friday. I think I’ve graduated.”

“So now I don’t have to lie completely flat on the ground to see where you’ve set your standards. Congratulations.”

“I even grabbed his number on my way out,” Rin delivers with a grin. “I kind of like him. He was nice to me.”

“Wow, sounds like true love,” Sousuke deadpans back.

“Oh come on,” Rin pouts. “Could you pretend to be happy for me?”

“No, because I’m not. Stop fucking around Rin. Try growing up for a change.”

Rin feels heat at his neck as his anger suddenly flares. “The fuck? You try and crawl out of the sewer hole you live in for once in your shitty life and now you got some sort of leg up on me?” he snaps. 

Sousuke rolls his jaw in an obvious attempt to swallow a retort. “It’s not a competition. But I am worried about you, all joking aside. I can’t be around this anymore.”

Rin coughs out a noise of disgust. “Well go home to your boyfriend who hates you in your sad loveless little house and feel better about yourself because at least you’re not with a degenerate like me then,” he sneers. “Oh by the way, here’s your order from _last fucking week_.” 

Rin unzips a pocket on his duffel bag and throws a container of pills at him, smacking him square in the chest before Sousuke catches it. “Don’t fucking pretend like you got this all figured out, like you’re suddenly so far removed from this, just because you don’t want to lose the only thing that’ll pity fuck you on your birthday.”

Sousuke’s over the bench that separates them and slamming Rin back into the lockers faster than he can close his loud mouth over the last word.

“You’re a shit friend. You’re an even shittier person, somehow. And I don’t have to fucking listen to this,” he says low and evenly. Then he takes the bottle Rin threw at him and drops it onto the ground before releasing Rin and leaving the locker room without another word. 

Rin finds himself grinning wryly as the door slams. He snatches the pills off the ground and tosses them into the trash. He isn’t stupid enough to fuck with oxy.

After waiting a few minutes for Sousuke to grab some distance on him, Rin leaves as well. He’s not sure why he snapped like that. Sousuke is only trying to help. Rin’s the one who told him he was better than all of this, wasn’t he? He’s the one who encouraged Sousuke to try and turn over a new leaf.

Maybe it was one of those things that sounded noble until it was reality. Maybe he didn’t actually believe Sousuke would make an honest attempt of it, but then he could at least say he was the encouraging, supportive friend who tried to help him even if it didn’t work out. He can see himself saying that with a shrug over a round of shots, Sousuke shrugging right along with him, pulled into oblivion by Rin’s constant, eternal enabling. He’d rather ruin someone else’s life than end up alone. 

So yeah, as far as these things go, Rin Matsuoka is a shitty person.

But now his shift is over, so he’s at liberty to forget about it for now. It isn’t the first time they’ve fought like that and it won’t be the last. 

He walks everywhere. Sousuke is his ride for anything far away, which leaves out his standard bar. But he needs to find _something_. The whole S.O.S. business had everyone keeping to themselves for a few days as it hit hard then fizzled out, and before Rin knew it he hadn’t had a drink in three days and had slept in his own bed for five. No wonder he was such a prick to Sousuke.

There’s a dive bar nearby the research building, which even he has the class to turn his nose up at usually, but at least he can walk to it. 

He hums a tune without much of a melody all the way up to the bar and orders something off the bottom shelf to save some money. A great thing about not being able to smell anything is he can barely taste the diesel fuel masquerading as alcohol on its way down to kick his liver in the dick. Or something like that. 

He jumps a foot and a half off his stool when the guy the seat over addresses him. It’s the coat from the week prior. Rin has definitely forgotten his name.

“Oh hey spectacles,” he greets. “Got the impression you weren’t much of a drinker.”

“It’s Rei. And I’m not. It’s unsavory. But this is nearby, and I’ve had a rough week. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”

“And your verdict?”

Rei scrunches his nose up at his whiskey glass and pokes it away from him. “Not a fan.”

“Even without your sniffer huh? I find it’s easier to stomach now.”

Rei frowns and looks down at his lap. He looks like Rin just insulted his mother.

“I wanted to stop it,” Rei says. “But I couldn’t.”

“What, the S.O.S. thing? Who cares?”

“I do,” Rei says, snapping his head back up. “This is serious.”

“Ah I mean, it spread real quick,right? Just last week you were still trying to keep it a secret from me, now it’s old news. Everyone sort of still does their thing, you know? Not much has changed. You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.”

Rei sighs. “I know. No one else came close to finding a cure either. It was foolish to think that just because I wanted to, I could.”

Rin turns this over in his head a moment before the wording strikes him as deliberate. “Wait, so they’re not even looking for a cure anymore?”

“Realistically… no. How would _you_ go about administering a cure to seven billion people?”

“Well you start with the ones who can pay for it.”

“Even those that could. You’re talking hundreds of millions. It will still be researched for years to come, though. This is an unprecedented event in the history of this planet, so far as we know.”

Rin signals for another shot and takes it down just as quickly. “Heavy shit, doc. So you hiding anything else? Any other big bad lurking in the shadows?”

“Not that I know of.”

Rin looks over and takes appraisal of him. He’s not bad looking. His diligent frown is clouding most of his nicer features, but from what Rin can piece together, he’s attractive. And Rin’s feeling a little pent up and ready for a tasteless pick-up line.

“Hey spectacles, how many fingers I got up?” He flashes two and holds them together.

Rei seems to suddenly think better of his decision to push his drink away and sips at it. “That isn’t how vision impairment works,” he says dryly.

“So… three?”

“I believe that’s more of a question _I_ should be asking _you_ , don’t you think?”

Rin lets a few beats go by before registering that, and when it does his eyebrows shoot for his hairline and he actually guffaws. “Holy _shit_. I figured you weren’t as uptight as your companions. I found a fox in a stuffy white coat here.”

Rei looks unamused. “I’m still uptight enough not to walk into whatever you’re trying to put down. Sloppily, I might add.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m a sleaze. I know of a roomy broom closet next to the plague freezer if you change your mind, though.”

Rei allows a mildly undignified snort and offers truce with a small smile.

Rin approves of this guy. He’s impervious to Rin’s antics, which is always fun. He sticks around for another drink while Rei finishes nursing his first, then bids him farewell. It’s not that he doesn’t find him to be good company, but Rin’s not quite where he wants to be after the day he’s had. He’d like to be in the company of someone who _will_ fall for his sloppy pick-up lines.

He fishes his phone from his jean pocket and taps the corner of the device in thought. The guy didn’t technically know Rin took his number. But he was sharp as a tack and gorgeous and Rin is weak to both of those things, so he didn’t feel too bad texting himself from Makoto’s phone, then adding himself as a contact filed under “Salt Police” while the other was fast asleep. He’d like to think the _firefighter_ (Rin still wasn’t buying that) had a good time too and maybe wouldn’t mind a slower going evening this time.

He frowns at the text waiting for him when he finally illuminates the screen.

_call me? we should talk, with things being sort of strange right now._

Gou. 

No we should not talk, he thinks. He dismisses the notification and opens a new text.

 _save any cats from trees lately?_ He taps send.

Surprisingly, there’s a reply within a minute. 

_i did, but got myself stuck in turn._

Rin snorts.

 _need help? i can climb it._ Gee, he’s just full of them tonight.

_sure. it’s probably just a coincidence, but it happens to be a tree right outside my apartment building._

Rin smiles. This is something he’s not too cheap to get a cab for.

-

Makoto greets him with a smile that makes Rin think he’s worth half a shit. It’s unnerving.

“Can I get you anything?” Makoto asks while Rin toes off his shoes at the door.

“Uh… whiskey?”

Makoto laughs. “No, sorry. Beer only if you’re looking for alcohol. It’s probably no good to be honest. It’s old.”

Rin scrunches up his face a little. Clearly this guy does not understand the rules of Hit It and Quit It, as rule number one involves alcohol. Any other person would be halfway down the street, but like Rin said, he likes this guy. He’ll let it slide. “That’s fine. I’m gonna step out for a smoke real quick.” He sticks one between his lips and reaches for the door.

Makoto cocks his head at him. “Just smoke in here, it’s not like I can smell it.” He pushes a small bowl across the half-table next to the door towards him that has acquired an impressive collection of paperclips and spent staples to use as an ashtray.

“Yea, you still got your pretty little lungs to consider though,” he reasons, rolling the cigarette to the corner of his mouth.

“Firefighter,” he says with a shrug. “They’re as good as scorched anyway.”

Rin nods along, not about to argue with it, and flicks his lighter a few times and puffs away until the cigarette is lit. He re-pockets the lighter, and takes a long drag before speaking again. “I’m not buying that, you know. The firefighter thing,” he says as he exhales the smoke.

Makoto doesn’t even flinch when it wafts near his eyes. “You don’t carry yourself like a cop either.”

“Point taken.” 

Makoto leaves him to his cigarette, disappearing into his gigantic kitchen. Rin takes a few more drags and goes outside anyway to snuff it out even though he hasn’t finished smoking it. It’s not as nice as it used to be with the whole sense impairment thing. He hasn’t really had the heart to finish one lately. 

When Rin re-enters, he finds Makoto tidying up the few items on his coffee table, an amber bottle set out on a coaster presumably for him. He’s oddly disinterested in it. Instead he pads quietly over to Makoto, and slips his hands around his waist while he’s still half-bent and moving the same goddamn stack of books over to another corner for the fifth time.

“Don’t do all that,” Rin chastises as Makoto straightens in his embrace.

“I never know what to do with any of this stuff,” Makoto responds sheepishly, turning to face Rin. 

“Throw it out, would be my answer.”

Makoto chuckles. “That’s probably a good idea, actually.” 

It helps that Rin isn’t a sheet and a half to the wind this time to really appreciate how fucking lucky he got to bag this guy not once, but twice now. He’s definitely built like a fireman, even if Rin still doesn’t believe he is one. He’s spoken to Rin in nothing but the kindest, gentlest tones... Makoto wasn’t even drunk when he agreed to this, last time or this time. He’s almost suspicious. He _is_ suspicious.

“What is it?” the other asks, noticing Rin’s shift in demeanor.

“I gotta know if you’re planning on killing me,” Rin says, taking a step back and dropping his arms.

“You’re really hung up on that.”

“I just don’t know why I’m here.”

Makoto frowns. Maybe he thinks Rin can’t see it, but he does. “Well you’re welcome to leave.”

Rin sighs. “You got this fucking mansion of an apartment, with shit all made of granite and hardwood, and you let some drunk asshole like me inside it? Then invite me back and let me smoke? As if the first time wasn’t a mistake or something? Then you straighten up your living room when we both know your couch ain’t our endgame. You don’t even drink. What’s your angle?”

Makoto furrows his brow slightly. “What angle? I think you’re interesting. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have nothing to gain by lying to you.”

“And you definitely have nothing to gain by sleeping with me. So why?”

“Do you think someone needs to be drunk or out of their mind to want you around?”

Makoto may as well have told him the sky was blue for all the groundbreaking that statement just did. “Well, duh. Yes. That’s usually the case. Do you get how one night stands work or...?”

Makoto takes a step forward to erase the one Rin took backwards. “I’m very aware of how they work. But you’re here again, aren’t you?” he murmurs, tilting Rin’s chin up and looking him dead in the eye. He looks so fucking _sad_ and for once Rin is stunned into silence. 

“I don’t know what it is… I appreciate your honesty, I think. And you’re the first person to make me laugh in a long time. So it’s selfish, really, but...” He’s inched closer to Rin as he speaks until his quiet conjunction may as well have been Rin’s own voice for how close it is to his lips. “I don’t have much of an answer for you. I’ve thought about you since you left. And you’ve thought about me too, at least a little. Maybe that’s enough for people like us.”

Rin kisses him instead of bolting like he should, because no one should think this way about him, and if they do they’re fucking nuts and should be avoided. But he thinks of nothing other than this man as soon as he finally recognizes what his sadness is, a sadness Makoto already saw in Rin likely a week prior. It’s loneliness. Makoto is just as lonely as he is. It’s clear as soon as the last word leaves his mouth, so soaked is it with a sense of hope that Makoto clearly doesn’t believe in anymore. So Makoto’s right, it is enough for a couple of souls at the end of their ropes. Rin’s feet stay firmly planted.

Makoto tastes like what’s missing from his half-crushed box of cigarettes, even though he doesn’t smoke and the taste that runs over his tongue has nothing to do with nicotine. It’s bitter and jaded and Rin devours it, hasty to take those feelings from Makoto and return them to himself where they’ve always belonged because Rin can take it. 

This is a spark, the thing Sousuke once waxed poetic about when the sun still followed him around. It’s something Rin’s never understood, and he laughed then. And yet it’s found him for no good reason, as Makoto put it in more flowery words. 

He’s terrified. He’s so scared all he can do is kiss him back and regret that he didn’t take in the scent of him when he had the chance. In what may be the only act of bravery he’ll commit in his entire life, he stays and asks for more. And in what he assumes to be Makoto’s only act of total trust he’ll commit in his entire life, he relents and gives it to Rin.

The following morning Rin wakes up first and watches Makoto sleep. There’s not much about it that takes his breath away or anything. He’s only happy that those sad eyes aren’t trained on him for the time being. He dares to hope Makoto wasn’t alone when a world laced with the scent of smoke left him behind. That he didn’t cry out for hours in this very bed for anyone, anyone at all, to comfort him. 

He dares to hope, even though he knows better. He goes back every night after that to try and make it up to him.

-

The freezer shuts with a _shunk_ of the latch and Haruka turns to tidy up the shelves and drawers before calling it a night and going home. Nagisa is uncustomarily quiet cleaning up on the other side of the kitchen, and a few other cooks linger to stretch out their hours while they still can. If the drop in business keeps up, it means they won’t be able to loiter for much longer.

He checks his phone quickly for anything from Sousuke. Why, he’s not sure. There’s never anything there, and historically speaking Haruka knows he should expect a message from the morgue asking him to come identify a body before he should expect anything from Sousuke. No notifications wait for him, as always. 

It’s been a full two weeks since Sousuke said I’m sorry and Haruka said well that’s too bad. His nerves have calmed from their frazzled disarray the week prior, and his night twisted up in his sheets and Sousuke’s arms is starting to become a distant memory. They’ve avoided each other successfully. Haruka hasn’t seen all of him in days; just a foot here or the back of a head there. 

Sousuke’s been home on time every single day. Even if they don’t talk, even if he has nothing to do, he walks through the door by 8:33 PM and stays. He thinks Sousuke reads, because he never hears the TV, but he isn’t sure. Haruka shuts himself in the room where he keeps his art and doesn’t emerge until the early hours of the morning to take himself to bed. He tiptoes past the couch with a held breath and a prayer that he doesn’t wake Sousuke up. 

Haruka is hardly so gullible to think Sousuke’s physical presence changes anything between them. But sometimes he pauses at the foyer to the living room and looks over the solid form on the couch and wonders if he’s sleeping well, and hopes he is.

What’s probably the most complexing element of the last two weeks is just how often Haruka thinks about Sousuke again, and how rarely those thoughts have ended in a venomous _"fuck him"_.

“We haven’t heard anything about a cure,” Haruka hears from across the room. It sounds sort of distant. There’s a ringing in his ears and he thinks he might be getting a headache.

“I’m sure it takes time.”

“Yeah but, no updates at all? It’s like it never happened.” A pang behind his eyes makes him wince. Definitely a headache.

“We just got to have a little faith,” Nagisa pipes in cheerfully, but Haruka hears his uncertainty. 

“Faith? This is science, not pixie dust.”

“Well, I th-”

A scream from one of the dishwashers rips through the conversation. Haruka whips his head over, startled, and stumbles backwards when the ground starts to crumble beneath his feet.

“Haru?!” he hears, and Nagisa is at his side. “Haru what’s wrong?! What is that?! _Who_ is that?!”

“ _Who_?!” Haru yells in alarm, overcome with panic, “Who’s there?!”

“Haru, _Haru_ it’s going to-”

“The ground! Nagisa!”

“What ground?! Who is that?! Get away!”

“ _The ground_!” he shrieks. “It’s gone it’s gone we’re going to fall-”

“ _Who is that?! Get away from him_!”

Haruka can’t speak anymore because he’s reeling with terror when a line of shadow figures step in behind Nagisa and point right at him. He stumbles away from his friend, who has started to back away himself and stomp around at something while pointing to a vague space behind Haruka’s head. Haruka thrashes backwards from the yawning canyon forming in front of him and trips over. 

He feels the flutter of hundreds of thousands of tiny insect legs crawling up his ankles and when he looks down he _sees them_ coming after him, mandibles snapping, from the opening in the ground and his unadulterated scream is the last to join the chorus already in full swing in the kitchen. They’re eating him, it _hurts_ , they’re everywhere, he sees swarm after swarm roll in waves out of the chasm and crash into everyone and everything. He cries out with an increasingly desperate screech and tries to swat the insects away while he kicks his heels down hard on what’s left of the tile-

-and his mind goes blank and the swarms sift away like black sand on the wind, the shadow men turn away and leave, and his screams are replaced with radio silence and an unparalleled hunger. 

Haruka grabs the nearest thing, literally, which is an onion, whole and unpeeled, and he eats every single part of it. He throws himself over the crate of newly delivered hot peppers and can’t force them down his throat fast enough. Barely chewing, seeds, stems, and all; he grabs them by the fistfull and forces them past his teeth and it’s not enough. He’s never known this sort of voracity, and the soy sauce he grabs next off the shelf does nothing to satiate him either.

There’s no sound in the kitchen besides the grotesque smacking and slapping of food being eaten and torn up for consumption. Haruka finds peanut butter, oregano, he rips a box of baking soda from the hands of someone else and chokes on it but it doesn’t stop his mindless need and he’s onto the next thing before the box hits the ground. 

And then as quickly as it came on, it’s over, and taste becomes a memory.

Haruka looks down at a bottle of red wine vinegar in one hand and wipes his mouth of its residue with the back of the other and then raises his eyes to look around the kitchen to see his coworkers in similar states of shock with food and non-food alike staining their fingers and clothes with pieces stuck to their lips. 

Nagisa is closest to him, a half-eaten bulb of garlic in his hands. “Haru,” he whispers with unchecked fright.

Haruka scrambles on his hands and knees over to him and tosses the bulb from his friend’s grasp. Nagisa throws himself at Haruka, and Haruka doesn’t protest it for once.

“I have to go,” he says almost blankly into the top of his head.

“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea, Haru,” Nagisa answers in a most earnest attempt at sounding chipper. 

He needs to be home.

_“There isn’t a name for this affliction just yet. The symptoms onset too quickly to warn the public of its existence.”_

Haruka sprints from the restaurant and down the street, full tilt. He slams past everyone and tries to dodge all the scraps of food and packaging littering the sidewalks so he doesn’t trip. Vendor carts are upturned, raw fish that had been on display over ice are torn apart. Even the flower shop is in shambles and everything that used to be planted has been uprooted and eaten. 

_“We have cause to believe this recent outbreak is connected to the S.O.S. disease.”_

People around him are in various stages of distress, some running with him, others walking around in a daze. He slips over a puddle of what feels like cooking oil beneath his sneaker just outside his local grocery and slams into the pavement with a grunt, scraping the skin from his palms and elbows. He quickly hops to his feet and keeps on.

_“There is a high risk of acquisition if you have not been afflicted with this new disease already. Please exercise extreme awareness of your surroundings, as it may manifest at any time. Do not surround yourself with potentially harmful organic material, such as gasoline or natural cleaning products. You can expect hallucinations, followed by an extreme hunger, and finally a complete loss of ability to taste.”_

He nearly runs into his door with inertia and with violently shaking hands now embedded with gravel tries to figure out the tangle of his keyring. He’s saved from the puzzle when Sousuke slams the door open and looks at Haruka like he’s about to cry again.

Sousuke’s usually dark uniform is even darker with what seems to be blood, and a look at his neck and face where he tried to hastily wipe it away confirms it.

“Sousuke,” Haruka whimpers in greeting before he can make the effort to even out his voice. 

Sousuke’s eye widen when he hears him and a deluge of words come spilling from his mouth. “Are you okay? I just got home to see if you were here and I was just leaving to find you because you _weren’t_ and I was so scared and I’m sorry and I want to give you your space but-”

Haruka shakes his head back and forth quickly to hide the slight wibble on his lip and throws his arms around Sousuke’s shoulders to bury his face in the crook of his neck. 

“Are you okay?” Sousuke repeats. He doesn’t touch Haruka back, keeping his arms at his sides.

“Just startled,” he downplays. Sousuke will hear “ _no, I’m terrified_ ” anyway.

“Me too.”

Haruka takes a deep breath to try and steady his heart and once satisfied with it, pulls back from the other and finally thinks to ask, because Sousuke seems physically unharmed. “...Why are you covered in blood?”

Horror flashes across Sousuke’s features briefly and Haruka sees him swallow a lump in his throat and stuff trembling hands into his pockets. 

If Haruka could still taste, he’d know it was bile threatening to burn over the top of his tongue when Sousuke’s answer comes as still and thick as the air on a hot summer’s day.

“I work with the research animals, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. The next chapter will be the final rest, so to speak.
> 
> I'm not sorry for my smooth as silk Rei Ryugazaki.


	3. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No extra warnings. This is ~fluff~ relative to the rest.

**3- Respite**

Rin kicks in the door to the fourth floor research facility bathrooms and jams his middle finger down his throat before he’s even knelt in front of a toilet. There are others in there with the same idea and it isn’t a symphony he ever wanted to treat his ears to. He’s glad he never bothered to train his gag reflex away so he can do this with relative ease. That’s a joke he’ll have to tell Sousuke later when he isn’t scared out of his mind.

It’s a blissful yet way too small consolation that he can’t taste his cigarettes on their way back up. The sight alone makes him retch a few more times before his stomach finally feels like it’s gone inside out and he has nothing left to offer his porcelain god.

He rinses his mouth at the sink, shoving some idiot out of the way who’s just standing there crying in front of the mirror. Not like it matters if he does rinse now, but it’s the principle of the thing. Once outside the bathroom, he takes stock of the disaster spread out before him. The entire floor of the building is a mess. There wasn’t much of anything edible but it sure as fuck didn’t stop anyone from thoroughly looking. The white coats have already started cleaning up in silence. 

There are scratches up his arms, he notices for the first time. He remembers thinking he was being burned alive. That was thoroughly unpleasant and his reaction to try and scratch fire away probably wasn’t one of his smartest moments. The next thing he knew he was looking down at an empty box of cigarettes, and his taste was gone. Putting two and two together quick enough caused some panicked puking. And here he is now. He nods to himself and shakes out his hands to diffuse the residual tension.

So maybe now there’s cause for alarm. Just a little. 

He hears a television and follows the noise, entering the breakroom where there’s a report being put together in real time about what everyone’s already figured out. He sees familiar red glasses and decides to anchor himself to Rei for a moment, still feeling out of sorts and in need of some company.

“So much for there not being anymore big bads.”

Rei nods stiffly. 

“How fucked are we?” Rin asks, unable to mask his concern. “I learned about patterns in elementary school and I have to say, I’m fond of being able to hear and see.”

“I have no idea, officer, as I’ve barely been recovered for ten minutes,” Rei shoots back.

Rin recoils from the tone. “Sorry.”

Rei sighs and pulls at the inner corners of his eyes, glasses pushed up over his hand. “Scent and taste are connected. It makes sense. Well, none of this makes any sense necessarily but taste being affected as well as smell is not outside the realm of possibility. We’ve theorized as much but it actually happened before we got anywhere with the research. We’re being significantly outpaced by whatever this is.”

“Uh, it happened all at once to everyone. Outpaced seems to be putting it lightly. This seems outside the reach of science.”

Rei shoots him a look that tells Rin he’s just spoken some sort of sacrilege. “I can assure you, it is not.”

Rin only rolls his eyes. 

“But it might be outside the reach of us humans,” he adds somberly. “For now, as I said, the senses we’ve lost were linked. There’s really no supportive theory that says we should suddenly lose our sight or hearing as well.”

Rin wants to say there’s also no reason any of this happened in the first place so far as a world’s worth of researchers can tell.

“Don’t,” Rei nearly hisses, like he can feel Rin’s doubt boring into him. “Just don’t. I don’t even want to think of such a situation and you shouldn’t either right now.”

“You’re a scientist, buddy. It’s your job to think of those things.”

Rei finally turns to face him completely and it’s a good thing they’re in the back of the room and away from the others because his glare is sharp and his voice is sharper. “Fine. Do you think that I haven’t? Do you think that I’ve been stressed out only because we can’t smell, now taste? There are other senses. It doesn’t have to be sight or hearing. Plenty of people live full lives without one or the other or sometimes both. Would the world come to a stop? Would humanity largely die off? Sure. But that isn’t the end. Some just might adapt. Would you like to know what you should be afraid of losing, officer?”

He actually leaves it as a non-rhetorical question though Rin has no answer. Rei reaches out and plants the pad of his index finger flat against Rin’s forehead. “Touch,” he answers for him. He throws a jolt of force behind his outstretched arm and pushes Rin, making him stumble a step. “Balance.” Rin jumps when he’s flicked hard in the same spot next. “...Pain. One by one, until there’s nothing left of you but a pile of failing organs.”

Rin’s stomach twists up for the second time that day but he isn’t about to give Rei the satisfaction of knowing it. “Heh,” he huffs. “That’s already what I’m working with anyway.” 

“You’re not even close to fooling me.”

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets before their steadiness betrays him. “Tell your spooky story to someone who has something to stick around for then, yeah?” He leaves without allowing a response and finds that roomy broom closet next to plague freezer to have a proper breakdown.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he mutters between clenched teeth with fingers tangled hard into his hair. His knee is bouncing non-stop and his clothes are constricting and hot. He looks around the pitch blackness of the closet from his seat on an overturned mop bucket and hears his breathing quicken in his ears and thinks about not being able to do either of those things. To see and hear _nothing_ , not even the darkness, not even the functions of his own body. Fuck whatever senses Rei was talking about; just the loss of that is enough to make him ill. 

He would not be one of those adaptable people. He would collapse in his apartment alone and never get back up. He can’t even handle the idea of it. Then an errant thought among the mess of his mind floats to the top and latches on.

Who the fuck would want Rin’s voice on their ears before the world went silent? In their line of sight before it’s gone forever? Not Sousuke. Not Gou. Not the people he willfully hurts, and he wouldn’t think himself worthy of it anyway if they would.

His phone chimes in his pocket and he retrieves it with fumbling hands. It’s Makoto and he can’t answer it fast enough.

“Finally,” Makoto’s voice comes crackled but unmistakably relieved from the other end as soon as he answers. “I’ve been trying to get a call through for half an hour are you okay?”

This entire thing has only been _over_ for half an hour. Did Makoto try and call him as soon as it ended? 

“You caught me at a bad time,” he chokes out over unchecked breathing that he hopes Makoto didn’t hear.

“Oh,” Makoto says quietly. “Yeah, of course. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Sorry. Talk to you... later.”

“Can I come over,” Rin blurts out before Makoto has a chance to hang up.

Makoto doesn’t answer right away and Rin curls over his knees at the silence on the line.

“Really?” Makoto finally says.

“Forget it. Sorry.”

“Wait! Yes, please. Please come over, I’ll leave the station!”

“Don’t you got citizens to help out in their time of need, fellow servant of the people?” He kicks himself immediately after saying it. Can’t he just be appreciative of a single goddamn thing?

“...Do you not qualify as a person in need?”

“I…”

Either the call drops or Makoto graciously hangs up, and either way he’s relieved. It takes a few extra minutes than usual to get himself under control without his usual crutches nearby to ease his edge. He leaves the closet and changes out of his godforsaken uniform, all the while knowing he should stay and do his fucking job and not giving a shit about it anyway. He’s about to lock up his pistol and pauses.

If this keeps up, he might need it. To defend himself, or…

Rin suddenly feels like he just scraped a fork across his teeth and all of his mounting anxiety stops in its tracks. He continues to put the weapon away with haste and makes sure he checks the lock no less than three times. Nothing else is going to happen. This is it. Rei was just being a fatalist. He’s just having a bad day, he’s not really worried, and he’ll come back to work tomorrow. Everyone else has left or is likely in the process of leaving for the day anyway.

He looks in Sousuke’s locker, the combination memorized for less than pure reasons. His change of clothes is still there, and his equipment isn’t. Is he still here? Or did he just take off straight to Haru? Even Rin pays attention enough to know the answer to that.

It takes an hour to find a cab, and if he’d just fucking walked he’d already be halfway there, which is something he grumbles to himself as he gets into the car. The driver attempts nervous small talk, about how busy he is as everyone panics and needs a cab home, how messy the streets are, how some roads are entirely undriveable, and Rin finally just has to ask him to shut up as politely as he can muster which comes out as a terse “please stop talking”.

When he gets to Makoto’s apartment building he’s sitting out front on the steps and stands and starts to run to meet Rin so quickly that it makes Rin freeze up in an odd feeling of anticipation. Makoto stops short of touching him but stands toe to toe.

“I’m… really glad you’re okay,” Makoto greets with that stupid, stupid smile. 

Rin nods and averts his eyes. “You all right too?” 

“I’ll be okay.” A pause. “Want to come in for dinner?”

Was that a fucking joke out of this magnificent mild mannered creature in the midst of societal unravel? Rin’s laugh is sudden but not unwelcome. “What’s on the menu?”

“Dirt, so far as we care.” He grins. “Or microwaveable dinner. Same difference.”

“Don’t you know how much sodium is in those things?”

-

Haruka sucks in a sharp breath as the sting from his palm ricochets up his arm. He’s been slowly picking debris out of his hands and elbows over the sink from his fall earlier while Sousuke takes a shower. The last tiny pebble pings onto the metal below and he washes his wounds with soap and water and lets out a tiny sigh of relief to be done with it. 

He feels absolutely disgusting but given what Sousuke went through, he relented the shower to him first. He waits outside the bathroom door until Sousuke _finally_ emerges after another twenty minutes. 

“Sorry,” he mutters upon seeing that Haruka’s been waiting. “How’re your arms?”

“They’re fine.” He pushes past Sousuke and shuts the door as he says it. If he doesn’t get a bath soon he might lose it.

When he leaves his bedroom freshly clothed and bandaged up, Sousuke’s already retreated to the couch and doesn’t even look up at the sound of Haruka shuffling about. 

He goes into the kitchen and he cooks them dinner. Vegetarian, considering the circumstances. 

“Eggplant curry,” he announces as he sets it down on the table in front of Sousuke.

Sousuke rolls over from where he’s been facing the back of the couch and eyes him warily. “I hate eggplant.”

“I know,” Haruka says with the tiniest quirk of his lips. “Couldn’t taste test it, so the flavor might be off.”

He blinks a few times and looks around as if Haruka’s couldn’t possibly be speaking to him. “...Funny guy,” he says while he sits up. Haruka sits on the other side once his legs are out of the way and the two start to eat. It’s an odd sensation to eat something your brain recognizes as food when all you can register is the consistency of it.

“The texture still sucks, but I’ll admit this is the tastiest you’ve ever made it.”

Haruka allows a small soundless laugh and Sousuke smiles into his next bite. The silence they finish the meal in is comfortable for once and Sousuke clears the plates and returns to his spot. “Thanks.”

Haruka nods and stands and is about to retreat to his art room for the day.

“Wait,” Sousuke calls. When he turns back around to face him, Sousuke’s hands are clasped tightly together, hanging between spread knees, and he looks like he’s struggling just to try and speak. “Can you… stay. Just for a little bit. You don’t have to talk to me. But I… I’m struggling. Right now. Quite a bit actually and…” He clears his throat. “This is difficult. And it’s just... some company would help. Even twenty minutes if it’s all you can stand of me.”

His eyes widen just a fraction of an inch when he realizes what’s going on. Withdrawal. Sousuke’s in withdrawal and Haruka never noticed. He was so caught up in Sousuke failing at his recovery that he never thought about it as a possibility. It’s why he’s been on the couch the last two weeks, hardly moving around when he’s home. He’s not reading or sleeping. He’s lying there sick after somehow getting through a ten hour day.

“ _Please_ , Haruka.”

He’s aware that he’s just been standing there not giving Sousuke any indication of his intentions even though he was already planning on sitting down. “...You’re not sleeping,” he says dumbly as he retakes his spot.

“Not really, no.”

“You’re sick.”

“Technically.”

“Idiot,” he hisses. “Why didn’t you say anything? You think you have to be some sort of martyr?”

Sousuke lets out a dry laugh. “Jesus, Haruka, even when I try and do something right you can’t fucking stand me, can you? Give me break here. I’m not looking for praise or anything but you don’t have to make me feel worse.”

“I just meant you should’ve told me. I could’ve at least made sure you had something to eat.”

“I deserve it anyway.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Sousuke.” Sousuke snaps his head up at that and stares at Haruka, bewildered. “I clearly don’t want you to suffer. I feel like if anything between us is clear, that much is.”

“I can handle it. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

“That’s not the po-”

“Do you hate me?”

Haruka snaps his mouth shut and furrows his eyebrows. He expected a question like this eventually. The silence seems to stretch for an eternity before Haruka can get his thoughts in order to answer, and by the time he speaks Sousuke stares on vacantly at the floor, looking defeated. But he has a lot to say, for once, and he hopes Sousuke is open to listening.

“I thought I did,” he starts. “I thought I hated you. When you relapsed the first time after we got together. And the second time after your surgery when you _knew_ you couldn’t have opiates and you found them anyway. When you disappeared for days and I thought you were dead. Multiple times. When you promised me inbetween all of this that you were going to get it together. When you said you were sorry for the umpteenth time while lying next to the toilet.” 

He pauses and takes a deep breath. “When you started to fix it, when you stuck around and came home on time and held me even though I told you I was done and leaving. There were a lot of times I thought I hated you, Sousuke, probably more times than I thought I didn’t by now.”

Sousuke hasn’t moved, hasn’t even twitched. But Haruka needs him to hear it, every single transgression, before he can move on.

“But I don’t. It wasn’t hate. When I was afraid today, after that horror... you’re the only person I could think about and I didn’t even consider going to anyone else. I realized today that I’ve... _missed_ you.”

“Har-”

“And I’m still not sure if you’re coming back.”

Sousuke nods along with that. “That’s fair,” he finally responds. “That’s… that’s fair.” He _laughs_ and it sounds relieved and elated and Haruka wonders if he really heard what he just said. “It’s selfish to say and I know it’s not about me but god, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if you hated me. It’s been eating me up.”

“I don’t know if we can recover from all of this,” Haruka says quietly. “And this disease is… it’s really changed things. I mean I lost my livelihood today in the blink of an eye. I don’t know. You’re not asking me, and I know you’d let me go if I left, but I know you don’t want me to leave either. But I’m just not convinced yet, Sousuke.”

“Yeah,” Sousuke agrees. “I don’t blame you.”

“I need more time. For now… I’ll stay here,” he concedes. “I won’t go at the end of the month so long as you’re still getting better. I’ll cancel the hold I made on the apartment.”

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper that makes Haruka’s throat tighter.

“Don’t… make me regret it.” After months of a solid invisible wall between them, Haruka makes the first chip at it. He reaches over and simply takes one of Sousuke’s hands from its clasp. It’s cold and clammy but he doesn’t mind. Touch is more important now than it ever was. Sousuke squeezes back like it’s his personal lifeline, which it just might be.

Sousuke’s the first to let go and return it to his lap. “I’m not going to say that I won’t because you’ve heard that enough and it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Good. I need some time alone now.” He stands as he says it on the off chance Sousuke might protest. “...I’m glad we talked. Let me know if you need anything.”

Sousuke nods and resumes his prone position on the couch. Haruka wavers half a second longer than he means to before finally walking away resolutely. This is Sousuke’s uphill journey this time, not his. But with any luck and a little determination on both their parts, Haruka will be at the top of the hill waiting for him.

-

“Done chewing? Guess.”

“I don’t know!”

“C’mon, guess.”

“Mmm… I really can’t tell!”

“You’re terrible at this game. It’s a fucking cookie.”

Makoto opens his eyes and blinks down at the packaging. “Well I thought it might be, but it could’ve been a dense cracker too.”

“You had a fifty-fifty shot then and you still didn’t take it!”

Makoto laughs and waves his hand dismissively. “It’s too much pressure.”

Rin stares at him agape. “We didn’t even put anything on the line for being wrong! What are you talking about?”

“You’re so intense about it!”

“Oh whatever. My turn.”

Makoto nods and twists from his cross-legged spot on the ground to rifle through the small bag of convenience store foods set behind him that they went out and bought earlier. Each got their own and didn’t show the other their choices, and the game is to guess what the food is based on texture alone.

Makoto’s about to turn around with his choice and notices Rin’s still staring at him. “Close your eyes! Don’t cheat.”

“All right, all right.” He slips his eyes shut and waits, listening to Makoto struggle with some packaging. 

“Okay, mouth,” he commands and Rin obeys.

Rin crunches down on something wafery and melty. “Candy bar,” he declares within seconds.

“Oh. That was an easy one, huh?”

Rin shrugs while he chews and swallows it. “I said you’re terrible at this. Close your eyes. I’ll go easy on you this round.”

Makoto closes his eyes and keeps his chin tilted forward in wait. Rin slides quickly onto his lap with a leg on either side and kisses him as he gasps in surprise. He’s been doing this willful unprovoked kissing thing a lot over the last week, he acknowledges in the back of his mind. Makoto isn’t caught off guard for long at all, and deftly slides his hands around Rin’s waist to land on his lower back and pull him closer. Rin is encouraged and pushes his tongue past Makoto’s teeth and deeper and soon they’re pressing together wherever they possibly can and offering hushed noises into the space between them. Rin breaks away and drags his mouth down the column of Makoto’s neck, nipping and sucking slowly from his jaw to his collarbone while Makoto arches into it and groans with a rumble next to Rin’s ear.

“I think… it’s you…” Makoto huffs out.

“Mm?”

“Not sure.”

Rin sits up and puts his forehead to Makoto’s. “Another taste, then, just to confirm.”

They’ve sorely lacked the ability to _stop_ once they get going since meeting over noodles. They both know it and they both have no interest in changing it despite its unconventionality. Rin would openly admit though that sex isn’t all there is to it now. He thinks Makoto is fucking incredible in virtually every way he can apply the weighted adjective to. 

They were casual in the wake of S.O.S. Rin went over every night that week after hitting the bar and left from there early the next morning to stop by his apartment to change and go to work. He paid the cab fare both ways with glee. Now a week after Rin ate his cigarettes and Makoto thought about him first they were inseparable and two days in, Rin simply brought all of his clothes over and picked up a six-pack on the way to Makoto every evening instead. 

They stayed home a few days after the spread of latest disease despite declaring every night that they were going back to work the following day. One would try to get out of bed (Makoto, two out of the three of those mornings) and the other would drag them back. Being fired over it was probably too low on their list of concerns. 

Finally, Makoto’s boss called him and guilted him into coming in since it turned out nearly everyone on earth was doing the exact same thing and the few that were showing up to the station were overwhelmed with work. Rin, with nothing better to do during the day, went back as well to stalk the noticeably quieter and emptier hallways of the medical research building. 

(He stays away from Sousuke’s floor, and makes sure to leave a little earlier or a little later than he does. Rin’s still unpacking why and knows he probably shouldn’t leave it to stew forever.)

This was the way the rest of the world began to move on as well. Society recovered, day by day, and adjusted. While the senses lost were memories now, and things might never be the same, they still had the sun to squint into and the cacophony of city traffic to keep them awake on work nights. They had lovers to touch and children to hug and a hot shower after a long day remained one of life’s greatest pleasures. Not all was lost.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning two weeks after Rin moved his clothes in that Makoto wakes up before him for the first time, and Rin awakens to a question that will prove to define this vague relationship he’s found himself in.

“Rin, can you tell me something about yourself?”

Rin blinks the sleep out of his eyes as he processes words for the first time in eight hours and decides it’s a very odd question.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know anything about you other than your name.”

Rin laughs. “Not true. You know I have a drinking problem. That I’m a cop. I sort of smoke but haven’t lately, for reasons I also told you. That’s four things.”

“None of that’s _you_ , though.”

“I sort of prefer your overall positive opinion of me. No need to change things up.”

Makoto gives him the sad smile Rin catches sometimes when Makoto thinks he isn’t paying attention. “When I was fifteen, my family moved to Kyoto from our small town so my dad could accept a new job,” Makoto says in the tone of an answer to a question Rin didn’t ask. “I had an accident in the ocean that year and nearly drowned. Did drown, technically. It scared me and my family and I think my parents looked for a reason to leave after that. It took me away from my friends before I even had the chance to recover mentally from the drowning. I didn’t adjust well and I didn’t make new friends.”

“Why didn’t you make new friends?”

“Some people just sense things about you even if you never tell them,” Makoto answers cryptically. “I was an outcast in Kyoto. I was never quite able to find my niche.”

“What, because you’re gay?” Rin says bluntly.

“It didn’t help,” he answers with a laugh. “But no, mostly that I was a quiet kid who didn’t want to swim in gym class from a town no one had heard of. I was an easy target because I didn’t fight back and had no one to back me up.”

“Why didn’t you? You’re built like a brick shithouse and I guarantee the punks giving you trouble were just like me and would’ve run with their tails between their legs.”

“I could’ve, definitely. But I don’t think that would’ve fixed my situation, do you?”

Rin shrugs. “Would’ve got ‘em off your dick anyway.”

“In any case when it was time to leave high school I wasn’t the same person anymore. It really did a number on me, I’m ashamed to admit that I’m clearly still dealing with the consequences of it. My parents didn’t think anything was wrong because I never said anything, as always. It’s silly.”

“It isn’t.”

“Hmm. I went into fire science because it was something noble my parents could be proud of me for. Have something to tell their friends about. Even if I lacked conviction in other areas of my life, I could hide behind a loud, robust profession and no one would be none the wiser. I moved to Tokyo two years ago to build up a narrative about me that doesn’t even exist. For my family.”

“And to further isolate yourself,” Rin takes a guess. “Because you were used to being alone.”

“Until I met you,” Makoto answers with a crinkle of his eyes. “I’m not pretending like I’m normal or anything, I have a lot to work through. But my point in telling you all of this is that you’re special to me, Rin. You’re the first I’ve ever felt anything for. And I trust you and want to know more about you.” 

Rin thinks Makoto is half-pressuring him into talking by laying out his past first, and adding a cute little cherry on top by dropping the trust bomb. He also thinks he could say nothing and Makoto would be okay with it. Fuck it all if isn’t painfully effective for someone who’s been bottling up their issues for over a decade. Not by choice. Simply because he never met anyone who cared enough to know. 

“...All right. You asked. My dad, coincidentally in terms of your story, drowned offshore when I was thirteen. He was a fisherman and his boat capsized. I was very close with him. I, being a child susceptible to distress in general, imploded. To put it mildly. And I’ve been fucking up ever since.”

“Why a cop?”

Rin laughs bitterly. “So I could pretend to do the right thing on occasion. Didn’t work out, really. I’m basically a drug dealer on a bad day and an amoral fuck-up on all the others.” He thinks he should’ve at least packed his clothes up before admitting to this, to make the ‘get the fuck out of my apartment’ scramble go a little smoother. “I abandoned my sister, leaving her all alone to take care of my mom. I lie and steal and cheat and sleep around and in the apt words of my best friend whose life I have meticulously destroyed, I am a shitty person.”

Makoto doesn’t flinch or make any sort of reaction. He tries not to look shocked when Makoto doesn’t kick him out. Just the opposite. “Would you do it differently if you could go back and start over?”

“I regret every choice I’ve made since he died,” Rin confirms thickly. “And I just can’t seem to stop making them.”

“Me either,” Makoto agrees.

“Oh you fucking saint, don’t pretend like you’ve done a single wrong thing in your entire life,” Rin says with an eyeroll. “You’ve been through some shit too and instead of turning into a walking trash bag, you just like your alone time.”

“If you think that’s something strong, you’re wrong. My mother died suddenly last year. I didn’t go home for her funeral. I lied and said I was called in on an emergency and stayed home. Ordered a pizza. Watched a movie. I was in bed by 10.”

“Why?” Rin asks in near disbelief. Like he has any place to judge, but really, _why_? “I… can’t imagine… if I didn’t get to say goodbye to my dad I’d be even worse off than I already am.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to go. Maybe we’re all selfish at the end of the day. Some of us just make more sinister moves than others, even if they aren’t always obvious.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I do,” Makoto answers without needing to think about it. “Quite a bit.”

“How did she die?”

“A heart attack.”

“So you eat like shit out of guilt, then.”

“Or maybe I just can’t cook.” He says it with a glint in his eye, like he finds it entertaining to keep a certain air of mystery about him.

Rin takes a moment to just look at him. Really take him in and think about what he said. Makoto allows it. There’s an entirely new person lying across from him after all. It’s a lot to get through from a soft bed on a warm morning.

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” Rin finally assesses. “I think you’re altruistic, but you’re fucking depressed, and have been your entire adult life. And that’s why you didn’t go.”

“And I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Makoto wagers. “I think you’ve lost your way and you have a lot of trauma you try and disassociate from through poor coping mechanisms.”

Rin snorts and smiles. “Ah, look at that. We’re better than the shrinks we’ve been desperately avoiding, aren’t we?”

Makoto covers his mouth as he laughs as if it’s scandalous. “It’s awful.”

“Maybe it’s enough for people like us, isn’t that what you said?”

“Maybe it is,” Makoto agrees. “We can be perfectly maladjusted together.”

“And if we don’t crash and burn first in a dazzling display of emotional detonation, maybe we'll get a little bit better.”

“I’d love to see it one day. With you there,” Makoto says slowly, and it’s more of a question than a statement.

“With me there,” Rin affirms. 

And he means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally like how this chapter turned out though I understand already it might not be a fav since I decided to focus on the romantic relationships nearly exclusively and suspend the other plot points. There were **a lot** of things I set out to pack into a single entry because I didn't want to drag it out any longer than that and my only hope is that I came even _remotely_ close to achieving my goal. u_u I guess I'll find out.
> 
> Small disclaimer in case it isn't apparent. I am not attempting to tout either of the depicted relationships as particularly healthy in the long-term. Because they are not (especially MR). But I'll be damned if I'm not their cheerleader and don't think they deserve a little positive interaction.
> 
> Thanks for the surprising amount of support on this. I know how weird truly weird this is. Buckle up for Ch 4, the fic is truly about to earn a few of its tags.  
> 


	4. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This is pretty much my last commentary before I let the rest of this stand alone and keep my thoughts out of the notes. I'd rather (and by rather I mean really, really love to) hear what other people think about these last chapters instead of throwing in my reasoning for things as the end-all, be-all of the fic.
> 
> After this chapter, the 5th will be shorter, and the last will be shorter than that (probably). I don't want to combine them into one even though I could because it just won't flow right that way. I'm already halfway through Ch5 as of this posting, and I wrote the end to this entire thing before I even finished Ch1. So I've had my endgame locked in and this ridiculous project is about done being made.
> 
> Also, thanks for following this. Seriously. I'm a fanartist first because I have been since the dawn of time and it's comfortable for me to do that. Writing is hard. I'm rarely confident in my ability to put words on a page in a pleasing order. Plus art just has an easier time existing in fandom. People look at it for 5 seconds and say "cute" if they say anything at all and forget about it. And that's fine, you take a few seconds to look and you sometimes take a few seconds to give a quick opinion. The work it takes to make a story and the level of commitment a viewer needs to have to experience it is a totally different beast. So if you've read my silly fic, and are actually going to finish it which I cannot wrap my head around tbh, I'm very humbled and happy. It is very rewarding to know I can make something that you won't forget about in 5 seconds.
> 
> To my full-time fic writers who do this steadfastly, you amaze me, I love you, and thanks for all you do. 
> 
> Anyway, that's all. Now about that "Heavy Angst" tag...

**4- I Love You**

“Oh! Is that you, Haru?” Haruka peers out from behind the freezer door to see Nagisa in the middle of the kitchen. “You scared me. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

“What are you doing here, Nagisa?”

He shuffles his feet sheepishly. “Well, I thought, since restaurants aren’t really a thing anymore, maybe the boss wouldn’t mind if I took a few snacks on my way out. He skipped town anyway, it’s all just sitting here.”

Haruka looks down at the crate of food in his arms then back up. “That’s stealing,” he deadpans.

Nagisa laughs. “You’re funnier than people give you credit for, Haru. Anything good left?”

“There’s still some meat in the freezer. A lot of it’s been picked over.”

“No good! I was hoping for a cake or something more portable.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that cake is less than portable. “You know you could try gathering up things of nutritional value since you won’t taste it anyway,” Haruka reprimands without much bite. 

“I could!” Nagisa agrees with a wink without offering anything else or an explanation.

It makes him laugh. “Are you going somewhere?”

Nagisa nods. “I’m leaving, actually. I feel like I need to be closer to my family after all that’s happened. And I’m out of money! My train is in an hour. I was going to call you! But this is better.” Haruka notices for the first time the overstuffed dufflebag at the entrance to the kitchen.

Haruka sets his crate down. “...Nagisa.”

“Don’t be sad, Haru. I’ll come and visit you and Sousuke.” He makes a little gasp. “How is he doing, anyway? I swear you haven’t brought him up in months and now that I’m leaving I guess I feel like I can ask.”

“He’s doing better. We’re working on it.”

Nagisa lights up. “That’s great! He’s such a good guy, but honestly you’d think he was two different people sometimes. Like he had an evil twin! I was worried he wouldn’t pull his head from his _you-know-where_.”

“You and me both.” Haruka smiles at him. Nagisa has mastered the ability to weave no-nonsense commentary seamlessly together with a sugary delivery, something Haruka has always appreciated. “I’ll miss you, Nagisa.”

“Haru! You’re going to make me cry,” Nagisa chastises with a sniff. “...Too late.”

“Don’t get into trouble.”

Nagisa crosses the room and throws his arms around Haruka’s neck. “Never.”

Haruka gives him a brief, tight squeeze. “I saw a few left over chocolate wafers on the back shelf. Close enough?”

Nagisa steps back and grins. “You’ve always looked out for me since I came here. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Haruka clears his throat to break up his blush and picks his crate back up. “Don’t say things like that. I only got this job at all because of you. You better go, you’re going to miss your train.”

“You’re right.” Nagisa skips over to the shelf for the treat and shoulders his dufflebag at the door with the chocolate in hand. His bag is heavy enough to make him lean. “See you around, Haru.”

He gathers up a few more items in silence after Nagisa leaves and for the first time really feels like this part of his life is _over_. And maybe it isn’t such a bad thing. He’s leaving behind a passion, a friend is moving away, but he’s also leaving behind a lot of grief in this kitchen. No matter what happens with Sousuke from this point, Haruka is going to move forward and it’s the lightest he’s felt in ages.

When he returns home with his bundle, Sousuke’s already there.

“It’s only 4,” Haruka greets, setting everything down on the counter. 

Sousuke looks up from the dining table where he’s been flipping through one of Haruka’s cookbooks. “Not much going on.”

“I don’t think that’s how you job works,” he suggests, moving to stand in the archway.

“Maybe I wanted to see you.”

“Perish the thought,” he replies with a heavy helping of sarcasm

Sousuke’s laugh carries from the dining room while Haruka returns to the kitchen to put things away. He’s been doing much more of that over the last few days. It’s nice.

“You’re the only one with an income right now, you know,” Haruka calls over to him. “You probably shouldn’t just leave.”

“Lab’s closed,” he answers from a lean against the counter, joining Haruka. “Only going to be open four days a week now. Just found out today.”

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get to go back to regular boring police work soon enough.”

“I’m not.” He transfers the last of the meat to the freezer and kicks the crate into a corner for now then moves to the sink to wash his hands.

“Did you steal all that from the restaurant?” Sousuke inquires with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Just borrowed it,” he answers flippantly while drying his hands.

“That’s illegal, Nanase.”

He says it with such authority that Haruka’s a bit startled and looks over to him with a slight frown. “It was going to go bad anyway.”

“I don’t know if I can let it slide.”

Oh. Now he knows where this is going. The only question is whether or not Sousuke is out of his damn mind for being so bold. Or whether or not Haruka is, since he’s currently crossing the kitchen to stand in front of him. “Then do something about it, officer.”

Sousuke drops his façade faster than a scalding hot plate and looks like he’s about ready to climb on top of the counter to get more distance between them. “Don’t do that.”

“You started it.”

“I figured you’d just tell me to go fuck myself, not play along.”

“Hmm.” Haruka gets closer and plants his hands on the counter on either side of Sousuke. “I still sort of want to say that.”

“Seriously, Haruka, this isn’t funny,” comes a very small response. 

“I know it isn’t.” He pushes onto his toes just a bit and lightly, _barely_ , touches his lips to Sousuke’s. Sousuke is responsible for fixing a lot of things, but restoring a physical relationship is all Haruka’s task, a job he’s been fighting against for a few days now. Making a move is admitting to himself that he thinks there’s something there, something worth saving, and now here he is doing just that. 

He can’t tell what Sousuke’s thinking when he puts his heels flat again. He’s just as good at Haruka is at masking his reactions, if not better. “I just felt like I should,” Haruka explains, but not without obvious confliction over it. “Do you want me to stop?”

Sousuke shakes his head in denial and clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth a little, as he physically musters up the courage to speak again. “Can I touch you?” he finally asks, putting his gaze to the ceiling as he does. It’s not begging and it’s not impatient. It’s a prayer to whoever will hear it, an admission of a dream he has every night. A flickering candle he secretly carries with him that he shields from all of the rain and the wind in the sky.

He nods and tucks his face against Sousuke’s chest and just _breathes_ , and the next chapter of his life begins in an embrace.

-

A tuneless song bounces down the quiet hallways of Rin’s personal labyrinth. He wants nothing more than to be off of this terrible assignment already and go back to breaking up fights between highschool students, and that’s exactly what he texts Makoto after looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees him slacking off.

 _soon, hopefully_ , Makoto answers after a while. _i might be home late_ , he follows up after a few minutes.

_everything ok?_

_just a few more random fires than usual... arsonist, maybe? i’m off to another across town right now, so i’ll probably be late. there’s pasta in the fridge. i need to put my phone away, see you soon._

Rin frowns. That’s no fun. Makoto already works twelve hour days; any extra seems downright dangerous.

The coats have been locked up in labs quite a bit the last week and a half. More than they were during the two week recovery period after the second wave of the disease. Hopefully they’re back to looking for a cure with things settling down. Maybe they changed their minds about it. He hears what sounds like a fight coming from a room at the end of the hall, the muffled shouting carrying through the closed door and down to him. It’s probably worth investigating.

He sees Rei and a few others on a teleconference with a man who seems to be very distraught. He’s throwing things across his work space and pointing aggressively at the camera as he yells. It’s unintelligible; the sound just as muffled as it was from down the hall. The coats don’t react much and just trade gazes across the table. Rei catches Rin peeking in out of the corner of his eye and stands quickly, drawing the blinds with that grim face he’s really good at making.

He rolls his eyes and continues his patrol. Rei just might be the most dramatic person Rin’s ever known. But is there really no cure? Whoever that person on the line is sure is pissed off about something.

Even though Makoto said he’d be late, Rin’s still disappointed to see dark windows when he looks up to check once he’s outside his building. He walks up the steps and reaches for the handle when another person comes barreling out, nearly knocking Rin down the stairs with the heavy door.

“E-fuckin'-scuse you!”

It’s a woman, someone he’s seen once or twice in the elevator. “You!” she shrieks at him.

“Hey, _whoa_ ,” Rin says as he raises his hands in front of him. “Calm the fuck down, you high or something?”

She doesn’t answer him and just continues to yell, getting close to his face. She shoves him roughly and he falls back against the door of the building. “Stop, or I’m gonna have to-”

She’s not even listening. She’s frenzied, even. The woman continues to shove him and Rin brings his arms up to defend himself and looks for an opportunity to subdue her. “You’re scum! You lost all your money, you can't provide for your family!” she screams. “ _Scum!_ ”

“Lady, look, I don’t even kno- fuck!” She’s going for his face and that’s enough for him. He grabs one of her hands and twists her arm back as he spins her, pulling up. She thrashes against him anyway, and Rin struggles to keep a grip. She’s overpowering him and every yank wrenches him closer to the steps, and he’s not about to take a tumble down that, even if there are only three of them. 

He lets go and she throws herself down them with the momentum she’s built, and Rin takes the opportunity to escape into the building. He watches her through the frosted window as she stumbles back to her feet and takes off in a sprint down the street into the night. If he wasn’t so shocked he might’ve had the decency to actually stop her, but as it stands he’s sprinting up the stairs to Makoto’s unit and makes sure to lock the door behind him before he thinks he should’ve done anything to restrain the woman.

“What the fuck,” he whispers soundlessly to himself. 

_hey, when you gonna be home?_

He knows Makoto’s phone is off but he can’t help himself. The altercation isn’t sitting well with him. This is a nice neighborhood; no one should be tripped out of their minds out here.

He waits for Makoto on the couch because he knows he won’t be sleeping until the other is safely in bed with him. When the lock unlatches well past midnight, Rin runs to it and opens the door for him. Makoto looks exhausted and not unlike he took a tumble down the side of a steep mountain.

“Makoto,” he gasps. 

“Things got… busy,” Makoto says before setting his mouth into a hard line. “Just… a ton of fires. I needed to stick around until the next shift came in, otherwise we couldn’t cover it all.”

“Arson, like you said?” Rin asks as he steps out of the way to let Makoto inside.

“We don’t know. There’s no pattern to it. It’s really random, and the scenes are so far apart it can’t just be one person. No one questioned seems to know. Just reports of altercations at some of the scenes. People fighting, then a fire not too long after. But not at every site, just a few.” He slowly kicks his shoes off. 

“Aren’t there people who like, lived in these places? Or worked? That might know? No one’s seen a thing?”

Makoto stands up straight and smiles in defeat. “I really need to sleep, I can’t think about this anymore.”

“Sure, sure.”

“…Rin?” 

Rin snaps out of the daze he’s stumbled into. For both of them to have days like that... “A woman from your building attacked me. Screamed at me and tried to hurt me.”

“What?! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was just…” He licks his lips anxiously. “Something seems off today.”

“What happened to her?!”

“She ran off. Hey, forget about it. Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed. If you ask me real nice, I’ll help.” He delivers it with a grin to put Makoto at ease.

“I’d like that. I don’t think my limbs work anyway.”

Makoto’s hardly a touchy person, but he latches onto Rin with gusto that night, and for the first time all day Rin gets the feeling he’s been left in the dark about something.

-

Makoto is up before him the next morning and insists on driving him to work. He doesn’t get his usual chance to watch something boring on TV while Makoto chats away. He talks a lot on the drive over too and Rin stays pleasantly distracted from the events that disturbed him the day before. He’s happy not to listen to a cabbie’s radio for once. “You’re spending all your money on taxis. I feel awful about it.”

“I’ll get a car eventually,” Rin says with a shrug. “But thanks,” he says, reaching for the door handle. “You have the day off so you better not do a single thing,” he warns. “Not after yesterday.”

“Promise,” Makoto smiles. “Text me, I’ll come pick you up. Maybe leave early?”

“Nope, that counts as doing something. I’ll get a cab.” He leans over and kisses him. “And I’ll leave as soon as I can. See ya.”

Most of his shift passes by at about the same pace the one prior did, even if the place is nearly deserted. Hours were probably cut again. He gets a text in the late afternoon.

_i was called in. i won’t be able to come get you._

Rin is instantly furious. _wtf?_

_im sorry rin. be careful ok? wait for me at home. don’t forget to lock the door._

_makoto what is going on?_

But he doesn’t respond, and Rin knows now this day will not be normal.

Rin abandons his route and finds one room in particular that’s about to catch a fucking earful from him. He slams the door open, startling Rei at his desk where he’s watching something on his laptop.

“What the fuck is going on?!” he roars. “What are all of you _poorly_ hiding?”

“Maybe you should close the door.”

“Maybe you should _fucking tell me_ before I put your goddamn nose through the back of your skull, Ryugazaki!”

Rei levels a cool stare. “Close the door, Rin.”

Something about his first name from the mouth of Dr. Proper shuts him up. He closes the door and takes a chair. Rei turns his laptop to him and turns up the speakers. “I guess since you’re here today, you didn't see the news this morning.” 

There’s a montage of destruction across the world on the screen. Rioting, violence, blood in the streets.

Fires.

“ _-victims are being asked to stay in their homes. Emergency response teams are being deployed to administer aid as of this morning. The initially infected are dangerous and contagious and should be avoided. Onset of S.H.L.S. causes hysteria in all infected. They are irrational and prone to violence. They speak to others belligerently and out of anger. Please use caution when diagnosing and report the infected to an official response member. This disease is spreading rapidly and health officials do not report any level of containment-_ ”

“S.H.L.S.” Rin states dryly, dread blooming over every nerve ending.

Rei looks like if he doesn’t answer, maybe it won’t be true, but finally sighs and speaks. “Severe Hearing Loss Syndrome.”

And Rin’s world fractures. 

He stands with enough force to throw his chair over. “You said the theory didn’t support it.”

“So far as we _knew_.”

He’s shaking his head rapidly in denial. “Bull-fucking-shit. Bullshit. That’s _bullshit_.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s happening. We tried to keep panic at bay as long as-”

“I could’ve fucking been home with him!” Rin cries. “I could’ve fucking _been there_ so he didn’t fucking leave! You fucking piece of _shit!_ ” He’s screaming so loud his throat is already feeling scratched.

Rei nods and merely looks down into his lap. “I’m truly sorry. I was bound to secrecy for as long as it could be held.”

And Makoto knew, didn’t he?

“I gotta go,” Rin says, backing up. “I gotta leave, I have to find him.”

Rei turns his laptop back around and breaks eye contact with him. “Good luck, Rin.”

Rin sprints faster than he ever has before. He notices a few coats in fits of hysteria in their labs and offices as he passes by the windows. This can’t be happening. This is a nightmare. He's here, _at work_ while everything goes to shit outside and he had no idea. He was sheltered from it. The man yelling on the teleconference, the woman from the building, Makoto's evasive answering. His own dumb hope that the worst was behind him when it's all yet to come. The world will go silent and dark, just like he's been having nightmares about. He throws his weight into the locker room door and charges in to get his things. Briefly, time comes to a halt, and everything is suspended but the scene in front of him.

“Sousuke.”

Sousuke turns around, distress emanating from every inch of him. “Oh my- Holy shit. Fuck. _Fuck_ , there you are, I-”

Rin shakes his head and words are falling from his mouth before he can run them through any sort of filter. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again but I really gotta go and… I came to get my gun but the phones are all fucked up-”

“I’m so sorry,” Rin repeats, ignoring what he said, and he thinks maybe he’s crying because his eyes sting. Maybe it’s the stress of world falling apart, but he can’t feel anything but the weight of everything he’s done in his life on his shoulders while looking at him. “I fucked up your life. I destroyed you. It’s all my fault, and I’m so, so, _sorry_ Sousuke.”

Sousuke bites his lip. “I’m just as responsible. I knew… I knew what I was doing. But it’s okay, Rin. It’s okay. We’re okay.” It could mean him and Haru, it could mean him and Rin, and either way he’s definitely crying now because he hears it patter onto the concrete floor at his feet.

“I wanted it to be _different_ ,” Rin hitches. “Our lives. We had _so much_ going for us.”

“I know. We really fucked it up.” Sousuke’s voice is uneven too and he roughly rubs at his eyes. 

A few moments pass where they both try and get themselves together and fail miserably.

“Maybe in another life we were good to each other,” Sousuke chokes out. “Maybe we didn’t do this to ourselves, waste all this time.”

Rin’s arms have found his middle as the words punch him in the gut and it’s all he can do to stay standing. “I’d like to believe it.”

“I do, I think. What happened with the guy who was nice to you?” he asks with a forced grin, with a dash of hope, like he’s checking to make sure Rin’s going to be okay without him.

Rin laughs through his tears. “I moved in with him.”

Sousuke smiles wider than he’s ever seen. He looks almost happy underneath what’s nearly a solid wall of terror. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m _not_ ,” he wails.

“I’m glad you have someone, Rin. You deserve happiness. You're worthy of it.”

“...Sou-”

“I have to go back to him now,” Sousuke declares with a sharp crack in his voice before Rin can react to his words. “To Haruka. I had to leave him to get this.”

Rin nods and swallows. This is it. Sousuke's going to walk out and it's done because no one can really believe now that it's all going to be okay. At least Rin can't. “Just in case this is it... be careful, Sousuke.”

Sousuke clears his throat and draws in a deep breath through his nose, finally calming himself. “You too.” 

“Until the next life, then.”

Sousuke walks to the door and stops with his hand on the handle. “I love you, you know. You asshole.”

He doesn't turn to face him, and puts on the act of his life. “Yeah yeah, I’d suck your dick too. Now shut the fuck up and get going.”

The door opens and he’s gone. His best friend, his literal partner in crime, the only rock he ever had before Makoto started to pull him from the endless sea. Rin covers his mouth to stop himself from calling after him. They both have somewhere to be while they can still see the path before them, and it's not with each other.

He runs the entire ten kilometers to Makoto’s apartment with his phone to his ear, dialing him over and over, knowing he won’t pick up, knowing the calls won’t go through anyway even if his phone was on. He doesn’t know where Makoto could possibly be. He could be anywhere in this city, trying to stunt the unraveling. The streets are in an uproar and he can barely fathom he was on this same route five hours prior and everything seemed okay. Smoke billows out of a few buildings. People are fucking everywhere; screaming, fighting, and beating the shit out of each other. Emergency response is blockading and taping off everything in sight. He’s glad he brought his badge, as he needs to flash it often to get past it all.

He runs well beyond his limits considering the speed he keeps up, and he stumbles up the stairs yelling for Makoto, and then flies from room to room once he’s inside in case he’s already there and unable to hear him come in. He isn’t anywhere. And all Rin can do is wait for him and hope he hasn’t heard him for the last time by the time he comes home.

He knows full well the sound he makes when the door finally, _finally_ unlocks at 2 AM, nearly ten hours after Rin got there. It’s caught somewhere between a wailing moan and a loud sigh of relief. Makoto is covered head to toe in dirt and cut up and scratched wherever his uniform gave him no protection. He drops his bag at his feet and manages a smile.

“Shit,” Rin mumbles, throwing himself over Makoto. “Please tell me you can still hear me.”

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “I can.”

He hugs him tighter and releases him a moment later. “Good. Because _fuck you_ for what you did.”

Makoto’s eyes widen. “Rin…”

“You can’t do that. You can’t _do_ that to someone who cares about you that fucking much.”

“I’m sorry, Rin. I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“Why would I have? Why would have I let you go out into _that?!_ ” he yells with a jab of his finger towards the window. 

“People were going to need me.”

“I needed you! You fucking kicked my ass to the curb to do that! I had no idea what was going on! You kept me from the news, the radio, you talked and talked so I wouldn’t look down the streets!” 

Makoto’s shoulders slump. “You have to know I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“But you did. Jesus, you did.”

He pulls Rin into another embrace in response and lets out a long sigh over the top of his head. “I’m scared too. But I’m here, okay? I’m not going back. It’s just us until this is over.”

Rin nods against him, deflating. He’s here, he’s not sick, and now they’re safe inside. It’s okay. It’s just them.

They bathe together and whisper comforts and reassurances to beat back the cloud hanging over their heads. Rin helps patch Makoto up, a few large scrapes in need of covering. Makoto is so exhausted he can’t try and push Rin off to do it himself. 

“This is my worst nightmare,” Rin confesses nearly inaudibly when they lie down in bed. “I’m terrified, Makoto.” 

Makoto reaches across and runs his fingers through Rin’s hair. “Me too. But we don’t have to do it alone this time. It makes me feel quite a bit better.”

“I want to hear you,” Rin laments. “I just met you. There’s so much I want to hear.”

“Shhh,” he soothes.

“And see.”

“One step at a time, okay? Come here.”

He doesn’t want to sleep, he wants to talk forever. But Makoto doesn’t let him. Maybe because he thinks there’s still plenty of time to listen to each other. Rin curls up against him, never having felt more vulnerable in his life, and also never more secure.

When he wakes up to the ambient sounds of the apartment, he can’t help but throw a hand over his heart to try and calm the spike in his pulse. Another day. Makoto has already left the bed, and tucked Rin in on his way out.

He finds him in the kitchen making them breakfast and Makoto throws a smile over his shoulder when Rin walks _loudly_ into the room. Satisfied, he turns back around to stop by the bathroom and get his hair and face in order, then slips into a day outfit. 

Rin stalks up behind Makoto and hugs him from behind, starting to sway with him. “I could get used to you waking up before me if you’re going to be all domestic and shit.”

“We can play house.”

“Only if we switch off on the dishes, I hate that damn chore.”

“We can play and pretend.”

“Yeah?”

“We can pretend all day.”

Rin stops moving, the hairs suddenly standing up on the back of his neck. “...You okay?”

“We can pretend like there’s something here,” Makoto says, turning around quickly enough to break Rin’s grasp. “We can, Rin, we can pretend _all fucking day_ that you’re more than a mistake. That you’re even one step above the gutter you were born into. We can pretend that if your dad actually lived, you might have turned out okay.”

Rin takes a step back but doesn’t feel like he can move much more than that. He's nothing short of turning to solid ice.

“We can pretend!” Makoto shouts. “Like I don’t just keep you here so I don’t have to go through the trouble of finding something else to fuck! That’s what you are, that’s what this is, we can pretend, but _that’s what this is!_ ”

“Makoto,” he tries to say, but it doesn’t leave his throat that’s closed over. 

“You’re a low-life, a stain, and you don’t even have the fucking decency on behalf of the rest of us to scrub yourself out,” Makoto spits. “You’re too fucking stupid to know what this is, to know you’re not anything to anyone who matters. You’re a vulture. You’re a coward. But stay, Rin, so we can pretend, _won’t you?_ _Maybe it’s enough! For people like us!_ ” He screams it so loudly that Rin’s ears ring and his soul shakes in its confines. 

He’s backpedaling fast enough to trip where the tile meets the carpet and twists onto his hands and knees to get the fuck away. Makoto stalks after him, yelling, almost chanting, “ _pretend, pretend, pretend_ ,” and Rin grabs his shoes and his keys and Makoto’s bag from the night prior because it’s there and he needs the car to put as much distance behind him as quickly as he can. Makoto has one of the books from the stack that changes corners on the coffee table in his hand and he launches it at Rin, barely missing. 

Rin gets the bag over his shoulder and is on his feet as Makoto goes for the lamp next, and he leaves and runs and doesn’t stop to look back. “ _Pretend!_ ” echoes all the way behind him, every utterance making his legs seem less solid. Down the stairs, and out the front, he digs for Makoto’s keys and finds his car and peels out of the parking lot. 

Anywhere but here, he repeats in his head. Anywhere but here. He’s too numb to think about anything other than the road in front of him, too hung up on the vitriol poisoning the blood in his veins. He’s not strong enough for this. Not even close. It was too real, too precise, and his thoughts and sense of self are in tatters.

Makoto’s phone rings from the bag Rin took a half hour into his drive and Rin fishes it out. “Salt Police” reads on the screen. He pulls to the side of the road and against his better judgement, but not without the burning need to confirm this has all been a dream, answers it.

“-on’t know if you can hear me,” comes Makoto’s small voice on the other line. It’s slow, and every syllable is clumsy, slightly slurred. “But whatever happened… whatever I said... that wasn’t me. Rin, I-”

It’s the last thing Rin hears before he blacks out. When he comes to, the phone is in pieces, a window is shattered, and a crow caws soundlessly on the guard rail next to the car.

He knocks on an off-white door later that morning at a house an hour’s drive away from the man that didn't mean to break his heart and nearly cries again when he only feels the vibration reverberate back through his knuckles. The door is slapped over with an official label: Deaf Inside. No one answers, of course. He opens it with a key from his ring stamped with faded daisies.

Gou goes white as a sheet at the sight of him and drops the glass she’s holding in the living room, shattering it over the hardwood.


	5. Stay With Me

**5- Stay With Me**

Once, during one of Sousuke’s more critical hospitalizations, Haruka painted the bottomless caverns of the oceans. 

They cut and plunged into the core of the earth, soft ribbons of rock intersected by hard angry lines. He placed them leagues below the surface, under layers of life crushing down relentlessly and mercilessly from above, and to the eye that looked too quickly at things, the painting seemed a solid black canvas.

A softer gaze and an intuitive, patient mind, might turn the painting at wide angles in the particled beams of light that shone through the windows at sunset and see the dance below the waves, the choreography woven into unyielding, faceless rock. The stretch into the abyss but a stretch nonetheless, scarred but unbroken. 

They might infer from this painting should they see it underneath the layers determined to hide it that no matter how deep the bottom of the ocean seems, it always manages to reach farther down. They might feel resiliency under pressure, a solid expanse that holds together under the weight of a primordial universe which threatens to turn it to dust.

But only if they looked with eyes intent to see.

When Haruka tears every canvas he’s ever put a part of himself into to pieces, he makes sure it rips down the middle first. The paint flakes away and joins the chorus of particles in the light, taking on new form, released from the arrangement Haruka imprisoned them to with a stroke of a brush. 

The wood cracks by his own hands and the splinters slipping into his only recently healed palms don’t slow him down. The death throes of the fabric are low zips into the polluted air and their suffering will be the last thing he ever hears, though he won’t remember it. 

When Haruka falls to his knees as the adrenaline drains out of him, covered in a fine layer of shimmering color catching on the final vestige of day slowly slipping below the sky, he looks up and sees the caverns intact before him among a sea of refuse. They stand strong and powerful as they always have beneath the layers, and when the light disappears to return the canvas to solid pitch for another day, Haruka is reassured through his crippling fear that they will always come back. That they always exist despite the darkness even if he can’t always see them.

If he could hear now, he’d know Sousuke forced the lock open to the art room Haruka closed himself away in on purpose long before he drops behind him and pulls him roughly to his chest. He’d know Sousuke was calling out for him to no avail long before he turns him around from his spot on the floor to look at Haruka with eyes so full of sorrow it spills over to bog down the rest of him, too. 

Haruka thinks of saying a lot of things to still the tremor that’s taken Sousuke over, but decides to hold his hands up in front of him to show the other that he’ll need a little help getting the splinters out instead.

He sits on the counter of the sink in their bathroom while Sousuke leans over his hands and gently tweezes the offending matter from beneath the delicate layers that are now flushed with irritation. Haruka sees the slight vibration on his lips, and knows already what he’s humming to keep himself calm as he does it. Haruka points out a few he misses, and after some time, returns his hands to his sides as a silent approval of Sousuke’s work.

Sousuke puts him in the bath and sits with him, eyes darting to the door on occasion. He’s afraid, Haruka knows. He’s afraid of when it will come for him, he’s afraid most of all that Haruka will end up in his crosshairs. But he doesn't rush a thing, and he watches Sousuke sing to him while he soaks and hears the words in his mind and is satisfied with that. 

Sousuke towels him dry and dresses him even though he doesn’t need to and he thinks Sousuke hasn’t stopped touching him this entire time. He’s placed into bed and they both know Haruka won’t be sleeping for a few more hours yet, but it’s a message he’s meant to hear. 

Sousuke is going to leave now, and wants him to stay there until he comes back.

_“It’ll be okay,”_ he says. Haruka can read it but he can’t interpret the tone. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him and Sousuke wants to hear himself say it so he can believe it. Then he nods resolutely and leaves, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.

As far as Haruka knows, Sousuke has stepped outside of the world. He will wait patiently for him to return.

This is a gift they’ve given to each other after years of exposing their worst sides, their open wounds. Years of fighting, yelling, blaming in the presence of the other. The sleepless nights, the angry words, the loveless touches. The gift of letting their minds go to black before the world goes quiet and doing it alone, so that one does not subject the other to the horror of unchecked rage as the last thing they’ll hear or read on the lips of the person who means the most. 

They’ve had enough of that in their long struggle to get to this point; there is nothing to gain by enduring it now for the sake of being there when nothing can be done about it.

He waits for Sousuke’s world to match his own, silent and slightly colder than it was before. The thought leaves him feeling vacant. But he knows he shouldn’t feel this way; it’s not quite right. So he leans over to grab his sketchbook off the nightstand and teaches his hands to create again. 

He draws sound, taste, and scent in strong lines as he thinks they might look were they visual. He opens his mind, feels every one separately, then turns them over and lets the memories of them mingle together. Briefly, it’s as if he never lost anything. He gives them life. Cherishes them. Lets them go once more and doesn’t feel so empty now. They’re not gone, just harder to find now.

When Sousuke comes back late into the night, nearly dawn, showered and clean, he crawls into bed slowly. Not because he thinks Haruka is sleeping because he clearly isn’t. It’s slow because he’s exhausted. It’s slow because the slide of the sheets against his skin is unfamiliar; up until this point a distant memory. 

Haruka’s thankful that there’s no point now in asking where he went. There are no excuses to hear, no substances to smell, no bitterness to taste. Because he’s here, really _here_ now, and he’s warm and close, and that’s all Haruka’s ever really wanted.

-

Rin rolls over with a groan he feels in his chest at the shaking of his shoulder and blinks up at Gou, who’s standing over him with a gentle smile, two fishing poles, and a question on the morning breeze coming through the open window.

He looks from the poles and back to her a few times and nods tentatively, and she positively illuminates from within, then turns and bounds out of his room. 

Everything is as he left it. The posters, the bedspread, the desk covered in little drawings of aliens and monsters from when he was supposed to be doing his homework as a kid. It’s all kept dust-free, and perhaps that detail hurts most of all. 

Rin washes up in the bathroom and heads downstairs slowly, still not very sure on his feet from the day before. His mother and Gou beckon him over excitedly from the kitchen table. He’s still not believing what he’s seeing. In fact he doesn’t even feel like he’s physically a _person_ anymore. He’s merely a dull current of energy moving through space. He wonders if he can still be in shock if he’s actively acknowledging that he is.

They’re so fucking _happy_ that he’s there. His mother cried for so long she ran out of tears. Gou didn’t strangle him with fishing line in his sleep. Though if he’s to be honest with himself he was hoping she would.

He knows he’s in a dark place, without a doubt the worst it’s ever been. Maybe it’s why he had to come here. He wouldn’t stand a chance out in the world. Not like this. Not when he can barely hold himself upright at the foot of the stairs. Not with Makoto telling him to kill himself breaking the surface tension of every single thought he has. 

No. Not Makoto. He knows this. But he can’t bury it.

They wave him over more enthusiastically until Gou finally just stands up and drags him over to the table, pushes him into a chair, and kicks it back in with her foot. She serves him a plate of some colorless food; clearly rations from the emergency response workers. Eating is truly the last thing he wants to do.

He looks up with a grimace when Gou digs a nail into his forearm.

_Eat,_ he can see her say.

Perhaps life hasn’t changed quite as much as he feels like it has.

They kiss their mother goodbye and set off from the house with poles in hand. They get into her small car and go, but not in the direction of the small lake he thought they’d be going to. They only go a few blocks, and stop in front of another house. Gou parks and runs around to get the door for him, then leads him by his hand to an open window. She reaches into the home and Rin thinks he sees her flip a light switch on and off a few times from within, then she’s pulling him back to the small entryway. A woman opens the door who looks pleased to see her, and Gou makes a cradling motion with her arms and points to him. 

She gestures for them to follow her, and Rin’s being led down a short hallway to a nursery. The woman picks up her child, who couldn’t possibly be older than a few weeks, and makes sure Rin is paying attention before doing anything else. He is. Quite focused actually, because what is the point of this?

The woman starts to speak or sing, Rin’s not interested either way, because he’s staring at the baby who is lighting up as she does it, visibly reacting to sound. 

Gou elbows him lightly, and smiles confidently. _See,_ she’s saying. _It’s not all so bad._

It’s on his mind for the long drive to the lake. It could mean a lot of things, it could mean nothing. It could mean not everyone’s affected, it could mean a cure. It could mean it’s too late for the majority, but perhaps not for _everyone_. It could merely mean an anomaly. It could mean infants with antibodies who will soon be unable to thrive without functional caregivers. Indeed, it could mean so much, and it could mean nothing at all. 

Gou knows this. She chooses to smile.

At the lake they get settled. Their father took them here often as children, and he thinks if he looks hard enough he can see him here now, baiting the hook for Rin who was too afraid to hurt a worm. Gou remembers too, and also baits his line for him, though they’re only using some wilted scraps of vegetables this time. 

They cast their lines and jam their poles down into the earth and between rocks, and Rin keeps a keen eye cast to the water while Gou retrieves a notepad and a pen from the bag she brought with her.

_I missed you._

He takes the pad but leaves it untouched in favor of keeping his eyes on the water, pen limp in his hand. Gou prods him with her food and reaches over to close his fingers firmer around the instrument, a face full of hope beaming at him to beat him down.

_Every day,_ he finally agrees.

_Where did you go?_

He stares at the question for a while and wonders what she’s really asking. _Lost at sea,_ he decides to answer.

_I’m glad you found your way back._

_I met someone out there,_ he adds sloppily. Even writing it out is hard.

_Where are they now?_

He places the pad in his lap and turns his gaze back to the water for a few minutes while Gou waits patiently beside him.

Alone in an apartment that’s too large for him. That’s where he is. Exactly as Rin met him.

_Alone._ He nearly throws the pad back at her for how on fire it suddenly feels.

It tells her nothing, yet he knows she’s smart enough to extrapolate from it. She always has been.

_Sometimes I wonder why everything is so fragile,_ she writes with a small frown. He doesn’t know how to comfort her while he’s walking over the jagged shards of his own life.

Rin’s line goes taut, saving him from the thoughts, and he grabs the fishing pole from its recess. He places memory to muscle to pull it in as he was shown. He stands and fights it for a few minutes, but whatever hooked on manages to get free and a final yank before the catch is gone sends Rin onto his ass. Gou is giggling at him when he looks to her helplessly. She quickly scribbles something else and holds it up for him to see. 

_Then I’m reminded why it’s not true._

-

Haruka angles his head to the side to catch a glimpse of Sousuke’s eyes peeking over his shoulder from their spot on the floor to deliver him the frown he _deserves_ for the transgression he just committed, which is unceremoniously flinging a splatter of neon green paint across the soft pink landscape Haruka has been working on for the last fifty minutes on the wall of their living room. 

He at least could’ve gone with a complementary color.

He can’t see all of him, just a quirk of an eyebrow sitting on his periphery, but he feels the half of his face that’s obscured by Haruka’s shoulder smile into his back. He heaves a sigh, just in case Sousuke didn’t see his downturned mouth, and Sousuke tosses the paintbrush at the wall to tarnish it further with his garish color choice before wrapping his arms and legs around Haruka’s chest and waist from behind in nothing short of a vice grip. 

Haruka leans into him and closes his eyes. 

Sousuke’s lips are soft up the side of his neck. Every kiss is full-contact, solid and sure, the lightest nip at the top of each that pulls his skin to nearly imperceptible peaks that fall just as quickly. Sousuke rolls his earlobe between dry teeth and Haruka guides his hand underneath the hem of his shirt in response. Sousuke lays his palm flat against his abdomen and skirts upwards, his hands are as rough as they’ve always been. Haruka has always thought it was unfair that they were so much more calloused than his when he uses them much less than Haruka does.

He’s steady, he’s gentle, but he’s never left room for interpretation, especially not now when Haruka’s ushered to the bedroom with a firm hand on his lower back. Haruka falls onto the sheets and feels like he’s curled up in a hearth lined with soft embers when Sousuke follows his movements and falls over him like a down comforter. It’s stifling, he’s reddened from his toes to his head, and Sousuke’s mouth feels a mere one unit short of unbearable on its path from his thighs to his face. 

He isn’t ignorant of the danger, the constant threat of a heat too intense for him is never really gone, but there’s no reason for him to worry. Not when he feels so warm now. Not when his only desire is to let himself be enveloped completely anyway. 

For the first time since he went deaf he wishes he could hear him. He misses the unshakable bass of Sousuke’s voice and the way it used to rumble down his spine with the force of a freight train, when every syllable made him arch his back to new heights. Sousuke braids the sounds together perfectly, always has, and with enough focus he can remember what it felt like now when he reads it on the lips barely gracing his hipbones but it isn’t quite the same. Sousuke sees his desire, reads the pleading in his eyes, so he says it against his skin: ha ru ka and doesn’t stop until Haruka’s felt it on every inch of his being. 

Haruka doesn’t only take. He gives him pliable limbs and fluttering eyelashes and hands wise beyond their owner. He knows Sousuke doesn’t miss his hearing as much as Haruka does. He has an entire experience to _look_ at, as Haruka has always been made up entirely of subtle movements that Sousuke learned long ago to read front to back. He’s never needed his voice much. Sousuke has always accepted that. Haruka has always appreciated it from the bottom of his heart. He rewards him with a break of his silence and a heady moan of his name when the time is right. Sousuke can’t hear it this time, but Haruka wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he reacts to it anyway. 

When they fall away from each other and sink deeper into their damp sheets, panting and at the edge of reality, Haruka wonders if he would change anything. If he would trade the return of his senses for any of this. To go back in time and rewrite what happened; to recapture the feeling of a crisp breeze under his nose, in his throat, brushing past his ears. He asks himself as if he doesn’t already know the answer. He’s merely paying respect to the question because he should given the nature of it.

When Sousuke rolls to him and whispers secrets other than his name against his skin now, stroking his face, locking ankles around his own, Haruka knows he wouldn’t take back what he lost if it meant losing what he gained.

-

He catches her staring out the large window in the dining room at times over the following days.

Sunrise  
When clouds roll in  
A gentle breeze breathing sway into the branches  
Sunset

She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t seem sad either. She watches it, then joins their mother in the living room and spends time with her until the next event that grabs her attention through the panes. Rin observes as well when he can. He watches them from the entryway or he curls against the arm of the couch and can only guess what they’re silently communicating about. 

When he can focus on them, when he can get even one arm over the edge of the pit he’s fallen into, he sees something he isn’t a part of. This isn’t where he’s supposed to be. He didn’t earn this right to be here with them now. He carelessly threw that away, and it’s too late to do anything about it. 

As much as he loves them both, he can’t stay. Not when there’s still someone who needs him, if he’s still there. Someone _Rin_ needs, which might be more accurate. Someone he abandoned, _again_. Someone who was supposed to break Rin of that habit once and for all and yet, here he is. Too terrified to find out if Makoto is waiting for him and if he’s willing to forgive Rin now for leaving him all alone.

On the third evening Gou sits Rin down at the kitchen table and sets the pad of paper in front of her after their mother has fallen asleep. She writes something, crosses it out, and writes again.

_~~Every day is~~  
Why are you still here?_

His eyes water at the sight of it and she reaches over and grabs his hand in reassurance briefly. It isn’t a question of bitterness or malice, but it’s a question he needs to answer. One constantly in the back of his mind. Gou, who doesn’t owe him anything, asks it and gives him the strength he needs to confront it.

_Because I’m afraid,_ he answers.

She sits up straight and looks just like their father, gaze hard and serious for the first time since Rin came back, and he knows what she writes before she pushes it at him to read. 

_We all are._

Gou pushes her chair back and stands. She bends to hug him tightly, then kisses the top of his head, and leaves the kitchen to go to bed. He gets back into Makoto’s car with the rising of the sun and tells himself she doesn’t watch him go from the dining room window.


	6. People Like Us

**6- People Like Us**

Rin drives away from the rising sun towards the only person he has left.

The streets are nearly devoid of people aside from a rounding emergency worker here and there. He sees a few other cars in motion on his drive back to the heart of the city, and countless numbers of them abandoned and parked in the middle of the road. 

It’s when he pulls up to the building with a gas tank on fumes that something turns over in his head and he _knows_ what it is as soon as it happens because he's felt this three other times now. It's just like the sadness, fear, and anger that came just before the loss of everything else. Only this time it's something light, something good, and something that doesn't let him stop thinking of Makoto.

-

Haruka spends these few days turning their apartment into a piece of art. He preps and cooks gourmet meals with the ingredients he has and makes an attempt at something pleasing with the stale ingredients he’s given as rations. He’s led to dance reluctantly and rolls his eyes when his toes are stepped on, but doesn’t pull away. He goes on walks by himself until a response worker forces him to go home, which he’s happy to do anyway because he’ll never take for granted the feeling of belonging that comes with someone waiting for him to return.

It’s when he takes a walk longer than usual that he stops mid-stride and wishes he didn’t wander so far away.

-

Rin flies up the stairs to Makoto’s apartment with something other than shock or worry propelling him upwards this time. He’s overtaken with the energy to be with him, an inexplicable flame bursting to life from within everything that Rin _is_ that tells him his only recourse is to _find him._

_Makoto, Makoto, Makoto_

He isn’t there.

-

Haruka’s breath is catching roughly in his chest by the time he runs into Sousuke just outside of their door, whose face is awash with relief at the sight of him. 

One look at the other and they know they’re where they need to be and the possessive drive that pushed Haruka home eases to comfort. The edges of their world begin to blur. 

They retire inside and out of the sun because they're not afraid of the dark. 

-

Rin knows he’s running out of time when things stop looking sharp but he won’t stop searching now even if he has to crawl his way around the city in the darkness that’s catching up with him.

But he won’t have to. He rounds the corner of a side street his legs have been forcing him towards and sees him sitting on the only stool still standing in front of a soot-stained, burned-out noodle shop.

The sight before him wavers in and out of focus but Makoto’s smile, _that stupid, stupid smile_ , is unmistakably clear. 

And so is his.

He sees nothing but happiness in Makoto's eyes for the first time before it all fades away.

-

It's dark now.

After it’s dark, they lie nose to nose on a bed made of good intentions and breathe in their floral spring brook sheets which have given way to stale winter. They lean forward and taste the idea of spice on each other’s lips from all the innocent coffee dates that ended in _forever._ They listen to heartbeats through the pads of their fingers skimming gingerly across planes of cooled skin. They think about tomorrow, and wonder if the maps they draw on each other will be enough to take them there.

After it’s dark, They brush messy hair from soft faces and beg each other to never leave in more words than they’ve ever known, passing their desires between mouths unwilling to be very far apart. They relent the faintest traces of tears that could belong to either of them, but in the end will belong to them both, carving the beginnings of beautiful canyons down their cheeks. They grapple with heavy hands to pull in sloped shoulders, and task each other to keep the terror creeping up the linings of their cores subdued and abated. They stand on hard pavement pushing up into the soles of their shoes and breathe out the sun beams that soak into their backs.

Maybe it’s love, and maybe it isn’t, but they wouldn’t be anywhere else if given the choice. They feel because it reminds them of what they’ve lost, but it also gifts them a knowing that they never could’ve fathomed were they alone. Above all and most simply it anchors each to the other in the dark and gives them someone to hold onto while a tempest of uncertainty beats against them.

And before it’s gone, whether it be the otherworldly feeling of knowing another soul so entirely before it all returns to how it was before or whether it be the ability to feel anything at all, they feel while they can with the hope and the determination that they will never forget it. 

They can never forget what it was like in that moment to be stripped of everything they thought was so precious, only to learn as they lost that there was so much more to hold dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending, I'll say as the final word, is what you want it to be. I said I would follow the film and that's what I did. BUT I have planted tons of different ideas about where it could go from here throughout the entirety of the fic; some were obvious and some were not so obvious. I was going for the subtle invasion of your subconscious, really. It comes down to what sort of ending you typically prefer in your fiction with and what sort of themes you identified with in the story itself, I think. 
> 
> So whether you loved or hated the ending- and I understand either way- thanks for reading it. :P Onto the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> iskabee @ tumblr


End file.
